Motion to Dismiss
by DaisyDay
Summary: Mike and Connie in another romantic thriller! A missing friend. The return of a worthy adversary. A love triangle. Come and read for the excitement, but stay for the romantic enchantment! A sequel to "Motion to Suppress"
1. Chapter 1

(Disclaimer: These characters belong to the Law and Order universe.)

Law and Order

Motion to Dismiss

Chapter 1

_ With a tired sigh, CIA operative Alexandria Andrews unlocked her car door and slid into the front seat. She tossed her briefcase onto the passenger seat next to her. It had been a long day in the office. _

_When you're a spy, debriefings are the most tedious, she thought._

_ She put her key into the ignition. A gloved hand reached out and wrapped around her neck. _

_ "Hello, Alex," a voice whispered next to her ear, "Remember me?"_

_ She felt a knife resting coldly against her throat. _

_ "Please," she feigned fear, "I don't know who you are. I-I'm just an office worker."_

_ "Oh, you know me. Try again" the voice whispered, this time in a malicious tone._

_Then she felt the knife moving along her throat._

"_L-let me think…please. …" Alexandria stammered, trying to insert fear in her voice, "y-yes…I __**do**__ k-know you…" she began and then, with strong conviction, ended with, "…and you're annoying __**me**__!"_

_At the same time, she reached behind and pounded the intruder's face with a powerful punch to his nose, startling him. He made an agonized sound as his head flew back at impact. He reflexively released his grip on her throat. _

_The knife fell. _

_She followed the quick jab with a strong-_

"…Connie." Mike's voice interrupted her reading.

ADA Connie Rubirosa looked up from her spy thriller novel. It was just getting to the good part. She glanced at her watch.

Lunchtime was over. Reluctantly she placed a paper she used as a bookmark back in her book.

EADA Mike Cutter was seated on the chair opposite her desk.

She had not even realized he had been observing her for the last ten minutes.

She looked so beautiful and intense, reading her action/thriller novel, enmeshed in the plot, he thought. She would scrutinize every word before slowly turning the page. Every thrilling movement could be read in the expressions of her face. Mike especially liked when she came to an incredible part in the story and would raise an eyebrow. He almost hated to interrupt her, but there was work to be done at the DA's office.

"Any forward movement on the Lewis case?" he asked.

The case involving Don Lewis had been the last case they had looked at before being pursued by Thomas Volchek two weeks ago.

A lifetime ago.

"Uh…still working on it." Connie told him as she looked around the desk for the file, "Although, from what I gather, the doctor has recently gone missing, too."

That was the case where three years ago Dr. Don Lewis had reported his wife missing from their Upper East Side home. Police had suspected Dr. Lewis, but had no evidence to press charges since the body had never been recovered.

And now they could not even locate him. The only reason they were even considering the Lewis case was that their workload had eased up considerably.

He tilted his head and examined her carefully. "Something on your mind? You've seemed distracted since the Volchek case ended."

Connie mulled over how she wanted to answer. It was hard to switch back to this no-action case after reading such an exciting chapter from her novel.

The chapter had reminded her of their own recent pulse-racing adventure, which included undercover work, a car chase, and gun shootings.

She leaned forward.

"Do you miss it, Mike?" she asked in an eager way, "Do you miss being one step ahead of the killers? Do you miss the adventure? All the excitement? All the action? Do you miss being part of the case?"

At first Mike looked puzzled as he tried to analyze what she was saying.

"Are you referring to the Volchek case?" He looked at her with those arresting blue eyes, "Connie, we _are_ part of the case, but we are litigators. We don't chase bad guys. We let the police do that and then they arrest the suspects. Our job is to methodically prosecute these criminals. We convict with principles of law and our ingenuity. That's our contribution to the case."

He handed over some witness statements to add to the Lewis file.

She knew he was right. She needed to get back to prosecuting cases.

"You're correct, I suppose." Connie sounded compliant, a little disappointed that Mike didn't feel the same way. She gave a hopeless sigh. "I'll look over the witnesses' statements again for the Lewis case."

"…and Connie," Mike added, as he didn't want to leave her totally disappointed, "I do remember everything that happened with the Volchek case. _Everything._"

Connie watched him as he walked away. He tried to make her feel better, she thought wistfully. She knew what he meant about "everything".

As she had many times before, she recalled the feel of his lips when he had kissed her and the slow sway of his body when he had danced with her.

She wondered if their personal relationship would ever advanced past their professional relationship. She also didn't know if she wanted it to.

Only time will tell.

Now as Connie stared at the folder in front of her, one word came to mind. Paperwork.

The day went by slowly.

Finally, it was almost quitting time at One Hogan Place.

At the end of the day, Jack McCoy was in Connie's office, waiting for an update on her case.

His impatient questioning somehow sounded demanding.

"So, do you think this Lewis case is worth prosecuting?" he wanted to know.

Jack seemed none too please that the case was going nowhere.

"It's your call, Jack," said Connie, sounding noncommittal.

"We don't have a lot of case here," Jack noted.

"I agree that this is a tough case because we have no physical body," agreed Connie, "but Lupo and Bernard think this case has potential."

"That so? Let me take a look at the case," said Jack as Connie handed him the file.

Jack took out his bifocals. Connie watched as he opened the file to read Don Lewis' file. At first he just glanced at the write-ups in the folder with disinterest. Then he looked at the photo of Don Lewis.

She registered shock in Jack's expression.

Perhaps she imagined it. She observed him closely. He was now reading all the background information, earnestly flipping through all the papers attached to the file, with a scowl on his face.

He quickly peruse through the information again, this time more carefully. At last his eyes returned back to the photo of Lewis. He also stared a long time at the photo of Lewis' missing wife, which had also been placed in the file. It was like he was trying to memorize the photos.

He slammed shut the file and firmly handed it back to her.

"Something wrong with the case, Jack?" Connie tried to read his expression.

For a split second, he had a worried look, but it disappeared so quickly, she thought she might have imagined it.

"No…no…I'm fine…" He said, not quite answering her question. He looked out as if in deep thought, but then quickly recovered and nodded to her before he left the room.

His mind seemed somewhere else.

So unlike Jack, she thought.

Jack, the one with opinions about every case, every situation.

Her observations told her that DA Jack McCoy knew Dr. Don Lewis.

But he did not want her to know that fact.

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_Welcome back and thanks for reading! I hope you will enjoy this sequel to "Motion to Suppress"._

_I am very proud of this story._

_The story begins with the mystery. Then we get to the action and the romance begins somewhere in the middle.._

_For you romantics out there, you will NOT be disappointed, either. Mike and Connie's romance will continue to blossom. The last chapter will tug at your heartstrings!_

_I appreciated all the reviews I've received from previous stories. Truly overwhelmed. Thank you!_

_Hopefully you'll follow this story to the very end, too!_

_Let me know what you think._


	2. Chapter 2

Connie starts to investigate.

Chapter 2

Later that night…

The north end of Central Park was a less developed and more isolated area of the park, especially in the still of the night.

That made it the perfect place for a secret meeting.

The other man had already been waiting for Jack Mc Coy when Jack's car pulled up. Their two cars were the only ones in the secluded area.

Jack was there for a private confrontation in Central Park. He got out of the car to converse with a slightly shorter, younger man with bleached blonde hair.

The argument was getting heated.

Suddenly the other man's hand formed like a solid spear and jabbed into Jack's kidney. Jack bent over like a jack knife and then dropped to the ground from the assault.

Looking covertly around, the man grabbed Jack's keys from the ground where it had fallen. He dragged Jack's body over to Jack's own car. Opening the trunk he dumped Jack's body in.

Giving the area one last look, the man slammed the trunk shut, got into the car and quickly sped away.

_._

The following day started out like any other day at the DA's office.

Connie walked to her office, past the cubicles of wooden-paneled offices, each staffed with law employees, busy with paper or phone work.

As she walked down the hallway to get her first cup of coffee, she noticed all the office lights were on except one.

Jack's office was still dark.

Connie approached Brenda, Jack's secretary, and asked if Jack was due to come in later today. Brenda explained that Jack had left a message on the answering machine saying he would be gone for an unspecified amount of time.

Connie was baffled. She asked if he left a forwarding number and Brenda said no.

All his actions seemed so strange. Jack loved being in the middle of everything and would never leave without giving the office a way of getting in touch with him.

"I thought so, too," said Brenda who knew him as well as anyone, "it's really not like him, but maybe he thinks he deserve a little peace and quiet every now and then, too."

That did not sound like Jack. When did he ever want some peace and quiet?

Connie was not convinced.

She got two cups of coffee and went to Mike's office.

Mike was quietly seated at his desk, reading a new file. His shirtsleeves had been rolled up, implying that he was seriously at work. She loved watching him studiously reading files with a look of total concentration. Every case that came across his desk, he always gave it his all. He certainly was a diligent prosecutor, Connie thought, as she entered his opened door.

He looked up and smiled warmly when he saw it was her.

She always got butterflies in her stomach when he looked at her that way. So openly happy to see her. Rarely did he hide his feelings. They were always reflected in the blues of his eyes.

He noticed that she brought him some coffee. As he gratefully accepted the welcoming cup, his hand lightly grazed hers as she looked at him with those lovely brown eyes of hers.

The gesture may not have been accidental. He took a sip, watching her the entire time, happy to see her so early in the workday.

He cleared his throat. Time to get down to business. There was a case before him that he needed to talk over with Connie.

"Looks like we have a new case," Mike said as he leaned over and tapped the file he had been reading, "Get this. A doorman of a swanky hotel hired a hit man to kill his girlfriend. The hitman was an undercover policeman. We've got everything on tape. It's a can't-miss case for us. "

"Actually, Mike, I'd like to talk to you about something else."

Mike sat up, "Sure, have a seat," he gestured to his other chair.

Connie shut his office door before she went and sat down.

She explained her apprehensions about Jack's unusual behavior regarding the Lewis case. And then the news this morning, that Jack would be absent indefinitely.

Mike leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. "Unusual, but Jack can be unpredictable at times."

"Jack?" Connie was astounded, "Mike, I've known him longer than you, and it's not too hard to figure him out, because, let's face it, he always bluntly tells us what he is thinking. I think it's more than that. I think something has happened to him."

"Just because he didn't come in to work?"

"No, it's more than that." Connie insisted, "I'm telling you, Jack looked so strange when he saw Don Lewis' picture. He recognized that person, I'm sure of it. Plus after doing some research, it appeared that Jack and this Don Lewis guy both spent some of their younger days in Chicago, at the same time."

Mike looked at her, trying to absorb what she was trying to say.

"Hmm. Chicago covers a wide area…it could just be a coincidence."

"Or not," said Connie, "Mike, I think it is worth investigating."

" Connie." Mike tried to sound patient as he leaned forward to make a point, " I just hope you aren't reading too much into this because…just because you might want —need—some kind of thrilling investigation to solve."

"What? I want? I need? Mike, I can't believe you said that."

"Look, Connie, I have to admit, I had also enjoyed our little escapades. We had some memorable things happen to us when we were on the run," his patient blue eyes sought her brown frustrated ones. They both looked at each other, knowing what the other one was recalling, "but nevertheless, I hope that situation isn't clouding your perception."

Connie stood up.

"No, I don't think I am being influenced by the last case. And no, it isn't from my reading spy thriller books, either. Things just aren't adding up right. But if you are too busy, don't worry. I can investigate this on my own!" she insisted.

"Connie, wait!" she heard Mike's voice behind her, but she had already left his office.

Mike groaned. He knew once Connie got something in her mind, it stuck. He admired her persistence, but sometimes…

Connie determinedly walked over to Brenda's desk and asked if Brenda had saved the phone message Jack had left.

The ever- efficient secretary expectantly answered in the affirmative and placed the answering machine within easy reach so that Connie could press the "on" button.

Then Brenda left for the copy room.

Connie was ready to push the button when she heard some footsteps behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

She was always aware of Mike's presence. Sure enough, he had followed her and now stood beside her. She nodded.

"I'm glad you've changed your mind, Mike." Connie smiled, appreciative that he was being supportive.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm here for you. Now what?" he wanted to know.

"I was just about to listen to Jack's last message," Connie explained as she pushed the "on" button of the answering machine.

Beep. "_Brenda… Jack."_ It was definitely Jack's voice, although it sounded a little strained, "_I plan to take off for a time. I have some personal matters to attend to regarding family issues. You know how complicated that can get. It may take some time. When I get this family debacle all cleared up, I will contact you. Thanks." _Beep.

What a strange message, so unlike him. Connie thought once more. She looked over at Mike.

He had been bent over the desk, listening intently to the short message. When the message ended, he had an odd expression that Connie could not read.

He straightened up and looked at Connie.

Mike knew Jack's message was a cry for help.

"Jack is in trouble," he said with certainty.

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_(I told you it was "grittier".)_

_Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

Connie finds a clue.

Chapter 3

So Mike knew Jack was in trouble, simply from the phone message.

"What makes you so sure?" Connie questioned.

"Remember the Innocence Coalition case?" Mike began pacing, as if it would make him think faster, "the complicated case involving Professor Ryan? At one point on that case, Jack insisted we take a plea bargain, in order he claimed, to make the whole debacle go away. Except he didn't pronounce 'debacle' the usual way of 'de-BOCK-el'. At that time, he pronounced it 'DEB-a-kil', which is still correct, but it is rarely pronounced that way. On the phone message this morning, he purposely pronounced it 'de-BOCK-el', the more popular way."

Mike stopped pacing in order to make his point, "Now I ask you, why would anyone pronounce the same word two different ways?"

"So… you're… saying…" Connie analyzed slowly," that perhaps someone else was eavesdropping on Jack's call… so Jack _secretly _pronounced the word a different way, to let us know something is wrong?" Connie asked.

Mike looked at her, concerned.

"I'm afraid so."

"But why would… whoever it was, allowed Jack to even make a call like that?" Connie asked.

Mike shrugged. "Probably so we wouldn't worry. If Jack were on a leave of absence, we wouldn't question his disappearance."

Connie nodded.

"Very clever. But we now know better. So let's get Lupo and Bernard on the case," suggested Connie.

Mike shook his head, "Remember, a person has to be missing for at least 24 hours. It hasn't been long enough to call for an investigation."

"You're right," Connie agreed, "And really, our evidence is paper thin."

Mike could almost see the wheels in Connie's mind turning as she looked past him, deep in thought.

"You know…" Connie analyzed, " I bet this is related to the Don Lewis case. The timing fits. It's not coincidental. There _has_ to be a connection."

"Uh-oh," said Mike, "I have a feeling our date book has suddenly become filled again."

Connie smiled slightly before getting serious.

"Mike, this is Jack." She said, "I don't think we should just sit around and wait for 24 hours to pass before we report it. The police will refuse the case anyway, since this phone message will contradict the idea that Jack had been taken against his will. Time is of the essence in abductions."

"—If that is what it is." He reminded her, "Maybe it's not an abduction. For now, we will just assume that Jack may be in some kind of trouble. But I agree that something has to be done. Better to err on the side of safe, I suppose."

Connie glanced at her watch.

"Uh-oh. Arraignment court. I may have to do a last minute illness call-in." Connie said with regret.

" Why don't I take arraignment court for you this morning?" suggested Mike.

"You _hate_ arraignment court," said Connie, "you always say there is no possibility of a conviction in arraignment court."

"—and you _hate_ cases when there is no investigating involve," said Mike pointed out, "but we have to do whatever is necessary for the end result. And the end result for this situation is to find Jack. At the same time, we also need to go about doing our own jobs."

"You're right. While you go to arraignment court, I can start investigating what happened to Jack." Connie suggested, " I think I'll start with Jack's office."

"Good. You have a good intuition for spotting anything that is amiss," reasoned Mike, " You might find something snooping around Jack's office."

Connie handed Mike the file and watched as he started for arraignment court.

She then turned and walked the opposite way towards Jack's office.

Connie entered his office. It seemed strange to be in here without hearing Jack's terse opinions vibrating throughout the office.

His wood paneled office reflected traditional law with his wall- to- wall law books.

No modern technology for Jack. Unless one counted his portable TV.

She looked through all the loose books and papers flowing out from his desk. Nothing stood out.

She opened all his small drawers, smiling at the bottle of scotch he had stashed in one of them.

She really missed Jack.

She continued opening drawers.

His center drawer held nothing suspicious, either. Just more supplies of pens, papers, staples and clips for the office.

She attempted pulling the main drawer out even more, in order to delve further and noted that the drawer itself did not pull out all the way.

As if something was caught inside of it.

Connie reached her hand underneath. She felt around.

Nothing.

She was ready to pull her hand out when her hand stopped on a stiff paper of some sort, taped way in the back of the middle desk drawer.

She managed to pull out a small 5 x 7 manila envelope. With her fingers she felt the entire area of the envelope, pressing the contents. It felt like one sheet of cardboard inside. She looked around to make sure no one was looking.

All the office workers outside his office were involved in their own work.

She discreetly opened the flap and took out a photograph.

The picture had an old look about it. The print was in color, but the hues were faded. It looked as if it had been taken years ago.

Connie studied the photograph.

The images in the photograph were slightly blurred. There were four people in the photo—two men and two women. The four of them were seated around a table, having drinks. Their hairstyles and clothes seemed dated.

The first woman sitting in the photo looked like Don Lewis' missing wife. Connie recognized her from the Lewis' file, but here she was looking youthful, with longer, dyed blonde hair.

Next to her in the picture sat a man with a beard. Connie squinted and if she used her imagination, she could almost picture it to be Don Lewis. Plus it stood to reason that the Lewis couple would be seated next to each other.

Next Connie's eyes traveled to the second man in the picture.

Her eyes opened wide as she immediately recognized a younger Jack McCoy.

So she was right regarding a connection between Jack McCoy and Don Lewis.

She gazed at the fourth person in the picture, a young woman. She did not look familiar. The woman in the picture was attractive, with-

"Connie," Brenda, Jack's secretary, broke into her thoughts.

Connie looked up and saw Brenda standing at the doorway of Jack's office.

"Is there a reason you are in Jack's office?" Brenda looked at Connie questionably.

"Uh…I was just taking back this photo I had given Jack a while ago," explained Connie, as she held up the picture, "Tell Jack, thanks."

As she walked past Brenda with the photo in hand, she felt this fourth person in the picture was a key part in finding out what happened to Jack.

But how would she go about finding out more about this woman?

She suddenly stopped walking.

She had a plan to identify the mystery woman.

.

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_A little side note. Writing is tough. All you fanfic writers know that._

_You write a chapter that you think is publishable…that you think is good…but how will other people react when they read it? I keep expecting a reviewer to write WTF? Tee hee. _

_The reviews are now in for the first two chapters of this story and I feel relieved that I can breathe out again. _

_I am simply… touched. _

_Thank you. Please continue reviewing. _

_I promise I will work extremely hard at keeping every reader's interest up._


	4. Chapter 4

The clue leads to an unpleasant meeting.

Chapter 4

So there was a connection between Jack and Don Lewis.

Half an hour later, Connie walked down Centre Street on her way to One Police Plaza. It was a short ten-minute walk. She wanted to talk to the Lieutenant about Jack. Maybe the Lieutenant could shed some light on the photo, being that she had a long history with Jack.

As always, the New York City streets was a busy collection of noises, sights and smells. Large crowds of people walked in front and back of her, their voices heard talking, shouting or laughing. She could feel the wind coming from in-between huge office buildings. Cars whizzed by, either splashing water, honking or going too fast over speed bumps, their gas fumes leaving a distinct odor.

The offices of the 2-7 Precinct were mostly glass with worn green- framed wood surrounding them. All the detectives sat openly at cheap office desks in the center of the building.

Today most of the desks were empty. The detectives were in the main conference room, still discussing the Manhattan Serial Killer.

In her enclosed office, Lt. Anita Van Buren sat busily at her desk when Connie walked in. They greeted each other as Connie explained Jack's disappearance.

"Miss Rubirosa," stated Van Buren in a business-like manner, "You know we can't do a thing until the person has been missing for 24 hours. Especially now, we lack the manpower. Even if it is Jack."

"I understand," Connie said, "Mainly I was wondering if you could tell me anything more about this picture I found in his office. It may connect Jack to one of our cases."

Anita put on her reading glasses as she took the photo from Connie. She looked at the picture for a while.

"My God," Anita said, as she removed her glasses and stared at Connie, shocked.

Connie stood straighter, "Something you can tell me about that picture?"

Anita put on her glasses again for a second look.

Connie stood closer to Lt. Van Buren as she also viewed the photo again.

"This must have been taken some twenty years ago," said Anita, "I don't know that woman," she pointed to Lewis' wife, "but the other one. My God, the other one."

"Who is she?" Connie was really curious now.

Anita pointed at the other female in the picture, "That is Jack's former ADA… Claire Kincaid."

Claire Kincaid.

Connie knew that name. She never met her, but she knew Claire Kincaid had been Jack's ADA and had been very close to him. From the office gossip, Connie had suspected there had been more between the two of them than just being working associates. The Lieutenant then confirmed her suspicions. Anita Van Buren also added that Claire was involved in a fatal auto accident, and Jack had never quite recovered from her death.

So whatever this case was about, it was almost 20 years old.

Connie walked back to the District Attorney's office to update Mike. He should have finished arraignment court by now.

The streets were encumbered with street signs, flashing crosswalks and skyscrapers. Cars whooshed by her quickly. Music blared out from cars and shops.

She had to walk past a row of small businesses with large glass windows showcasing items they were selling. The loud music from one of the shops made Connie turn to look at the window.

From the reflection of the shop's window and also from the next shop's window, Connie's intuition told her that someone was following her.

Following the glass reflection further, Connie could see, a few steps back, a petite female wearing a long wool coat. The female was also wearing sunglasses and a ski cap. She fell in step quite a distance behind Connie.

But Connie sensed this woman was not just taking a stroll.

Sunglasses would not be needed on such a hazy day, nor was it really cold enough for a ski cap, Connie surmised.

The female also looked vaguely familiar, although Connie could not place where she had seen her before.

Connie quickened her step. So did the unknown female.

Connie slowed down. The female was pretending to check something on her Blackberry.

Taking out her cell phone, Connie dialed Mike. He was done with arraignment court, so he picked up almost immediately.

Connie quietly relayed her fears of being followed.

"Hmmm. First we need to find out who this person is." Mike said in almost a whisper, "Walk down to the parking garage, towards your car."

"You want me to be in a secluded area with this person?" Connie asked, keeping her voice low "Isn't that the _last_ thing I should do?"

"Connie, you won't be alone in the garage, "assured Mike quietly, "I'm in closer proximity to your car than you. Pretend you are getting something from your car. In the meantime, don't hang up. Leave your cell phone on so I can hear everything that is going on. Don't worry. And be careful too."

"O-okay," Connie said apprehensively.

"Remember," Mike continued in a low, persuasive voice, "just act normal. We don't want this person to become suspicious. And Connie, _I will be there_."

She left her cell phone on as she made a slight detour towards the parking structure.

A little while later Connie arrived at the concrete -made parking garage located underneath One Hogan Place. The noise from the street created a small echo in the confined parking area.

Connie could hear the clacking of her own heels in the quietude of the parking garage. Her ears were also attuned to another female's clacking heels behind her. She was still being followed, much to her dismay.

One time, curiosity got the best of her and Connie suddenly stopped, almost in mid-step.

The clacking noise of the second set of heels had also immediately stopped. No sign of anyone else in the parking garage. The only noise heard in the garage was the street sounds of whooshing cars from outside.

Connie seemed to be alone.

Whoever this person was, she was good.

Very good.

Connie walked on.

Trying not to turn her head, Connie darted her eyes left, then right.

No sign of Mike either.

She knew he would be here, but she was still scared. What if the Judge held him up in court? Or investigators stopped to ask him a question in the court hallways? She just hoped he would get here in time. She held tightly to the cell phone, knowing Mike was connected to her through this phone.

She reached her car door. As she shakily put her car keys in the lock, she felt the presence of someone behind her.

Then something was jabbed in the middle of her back.

"Connie Rubirosa." It was a female voice, slightly familiar, "don't turn around."

Connie froze.

"Who are you?" Connie was trying to buy some time.

No answer.

Seconds later, she heard the click of another gun, slightly further away.

Then she heard Mike's forceful voice echoing throughout the garage, and she sighed with relief.

"**Hands up with the gun, or it will be the last time you hold one**." He stated harshly.

She felt whatever was pointed on her back, silently removed.

Connie then turned around. She recognized that it was the same female who had been tailing her.

The female's hands were up in the air, allowing Connie to grab the gun the semi-disguised woman possessed in her right hand.

Connie then tried to peer around the woman to spot Mike.

Positioned behind the woman, Mike looked like he was ready to shoot someone.

Which he probably would have, if that female had hurt Connie in any way.

Connie looked back at the woman, wondering who this person was that had been following her.

They would soon find out.

Mike reached over and roughly removed the ski cap and sunglasses from the unknown female.

The woman's hair was mused and she obviously did not like having sunglasses yanked off her face, for she glared angrily at the two lawyers.

Connie gasped.

Mike and Connie both knew this woman.

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_Reviews please!_


	5. Chapter 5

They meet with a former adversary.

Chapter 5

Standing in front of them was the lovely Kim Brody, aka Claire Tomlin.

Three years ago Mike and Connie had prosecuted this same Kim Brody. They knew her as a manipulative con artist who was the lone surviving suspect in a Quit Claim property scam involving organized crime.

Among the people she allegedly killed were members of the Fatone mob and a convicted criminal. She was arrested and prosecuted by Mike and Connie.

The trial was a sham. At that time, Kim Brody, or whoever she was, maneuvered the justice system by having the FBI hold her in protective custody. Despite having no background information on Kim Brody, the FBI had taken custody of her, claiming she had anti-terrorism testimony (which she did not have).

Unable to convict, she had been led away by the U. S. attorney, with Mike disappointedly commenting that Kim Brody was no longer their problem.

She stood bravely in front of them now, a beautiful, blonde ice queen, with clear blue eyes.

There was no look of panic at being caught.

If anything, she looked perturbed about the situation.

"Reach into my jacket pocket," she coldly informed them, "it'll explain everything."

Connie reached in to pull out a black bi-fold wallet.

Connie drew a sharp breath when she opened it and showed it to Mike.

It was a shiny FBI badge, complete with Kim Brody's agent ID on the accompanying plastic pocket flap.

"I can explain everything to you," she said, "if you will follow me back to the FBI branch office."

Mike and Connie exchanged looks.

At best, it may clear up the mystery of Kim Brody. At worst, it is one incredible con job.

The three left in two cars for the covert location.

The offshoot branch of the FBI headquarters was located on the outskirts of the city, in a remote area. The office building itself was nondescript with no signs promoting any type of business.

The lobby of the undistinguished building looked like any other commonplace lobby.

The three entered the elevator.

Connie noted that there were buttons for nine floors. The tenth floor was accessible only with a key card. Kim Brody inserted her key card and the elevator proceeded to go up, dinging at the tenth floor.

She led them to an unmarked door. Next to the door was a panel that looked like an x-ray screen, the kind that doctors used to interpret x-ray film.

Kim Brody placed her entire palm on the plate. When the screen identified her palm print, the door buzzed and she opened the door.

This definitely was not a con job.

The door led to an all-white, shiny hallway, with several closed office doors. A few agents with badges strode down the hallway.

Very little adorned each door except a small window, a nearby nine-digit code box, and numbers adjacent to the doors, which obviously identified the various offices.

The clean white walls of the hallway were also unembellished, except for a fire alarm unit and a fire extinguisher enclosed in glass. Fluorescent lights lit the passageway from above.

A surveillance camera was spotted above the entrance door.

Kim Brody walked ahead in the hallway, as Mike and Connie purposely fell back a few steps.

"This is some operation, here," Connie commented softly so that only Mike could hear.

"Looks like some clandestine work occurs here," Mike said in a low voice, "the building seems to be so hidden, even for an agency like the FBI."

"Oh, I've read about how each of these government agencies actually run a secret bureau within their agency," Connie whispered, "It's like a renegade department. Their mission requires them to covertly clean up any 'dirty work' from a case, so to speak."

"Could be that's what this is—just like my office is the secret department used to clean up the dirty work in the DA's office," he half-teased in a quiet tone.

The three walked down a second hallway, which also had a surveillance camera posted up above a doorway.

They reached an office numbered "14". Kim Brody secretly typed in her three- digit code and the door made a buzzing noise as it automatically opened.

Her office was sparsely furnished. It held only a desk with a phone, her desk chair, a high tech computer, a file cabinet and two chairs. No personal items of any kind were displayed anywhere. Her desk was cleared except for one file.

She motioned for them to be seated.

"You must have questions," she commented curtly.

"So you had been working for the FBI during the time we were trying to prosecute you?" asked Connie when they were all seated. This explained why they could not find any background information on her, why her past could not be explained. Her background records were probably restricted information, meant for FBI eyes only.

Kim nodded once, "I was deep undercover. Back then, you two almost blew my cover. I had to summon my team from the FBI to come get me on a trumped up excuse. At every turn, the two of you would not give up until the very end. Up to that time, it had been frustrating for the FBI."

"If I surmised correctly, your assignment back then, as an FBI agent, was to rub out the entire Fatone family mob?" Mike concluded.

"I can neither confirm or deny that," she said.

"Then tell us this… why were you following me?" Connie asked, "and why are we even here?"

"To tell you to stop investigating Jack McCoy's disappearance," she stated.

"Are you involved with his disappearance?" Mike asked.

"No."

"How did you know we were even investigating and why should we stop?" Mike wanted to know.

"That is on a need-to-know basis," she replied, "and you don't need to know."

All her answers were short and tight, Connie noted. Kim Brody was the type of person who did not waste words. Also, covert operators actually do utilized terms such as " neither confirm or deny that" and "need-to-know". Connie was intrigued.

"We share and share alike," continued Kim Brody, "I showed you mine, now you."

"You haven't really told us much of anything," commented Mike.

"Telling you the FBI is involved in finding Jack McCoy is enough," she said in an impatient tone, "He is a government official. We will find him. Give us any info you have. Do you want to find him or not?"

Connie looked at Mike. Perhaps they did need some help. She handed over Jack's photo. Connie identified all four people in the picture for Kim Brody.

Mike was impressed with her detective skills.

"Why can't you tell us more?" Connie asked as Kim Brody stared at the picture, "We are worried about his safety."

Kim Brody stood up, "Let the FBI handle this. You need not worry any further. We will notify you when we find him. _And_ this photo will become the property of the FBI."

"Wait, you just can't take that picture!" Connie said, "It doesn't belong to you!"

"The FBI can seize any item if it pertains to a case. You are lawyers. You should know that," Kim Brody said coldly as she placed the photo in her locked drawer, "But enough time has been wasted. I need to continue on the case. Good day."

They were being dismissed. Kim Brody merely looked at them with no reaction. Mike and Connie could do nothing but stand up and leave.

They walked down the hallway leading to the outside door. Before they reached the door leading back to the elevator, Mike motioned for Connie to stand underneath the surveillance camera, where it would be impossible for them to be filmed.

"What is it?" Connie automatically whispered.

"I saw the folder on Kim Brody's desk," Mike explained, "It was labeled 'Don Lewis" slash 'Jack McCoy. We somehow have to get a look at what's in that folder. I believe the file will tell us why Jack has disappeared."

"I'm sure that's true," Connie agreed, "But how do you plan to get a hold of that file?"

Mike gave her an _are-you-in_ type of look.

"Why… we are going to break into Kim Brody's secured office, of course," he replied in an even tone, "_and the best time to do it is right now_."

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_Please review_.


	6. Chapter 6

Mike and Connie prepare for the break-in.

Chapter 6

They continued to stand at the end of the hallway, out of sight from the surveillance cameras.

Mike explained the plan to break into Kim Brody's protected FBI office.

"It's crazy, Mike!" Connie said, of the plan.

"Weren't you the one who wanted an adventure?" Mike asked.

He was right. She did.

Here it was in front of them.

It didn't take long for her to make a decision.

She nodded, "Alright… I'm in!"

Connie watched as Mike took out a pair of wire-framed glasses and put it on. She didn't even know he wore glasses.

"My driving glasses, a.k.a. my disguise," he quietly explained, "Tell me you don't recognize me."

Of course, he was kidding.

Connie personally thought he looked very suave in the intellectual glasses. Like if James Bond wore glasses. In addition, it really brought out the blues in his eyes. Connie shook her head to try and clear her mind.

She needed to stop her mind ramblings and concentrate on the mission on hand.

After all, they were going to break into an official secured government agency.

What could possibly go wrong with that?

They began initiating their plan.

Mike and Connie each pinned their District Attorney badges on.

A badge signified power.

Mike explained the strategy behind the plan. He theorized to Connie that if a person wears a badge and speaks in an authoritarian manner, people would tend to believe whatever nonsense that person is stating.

Hopefully the people they come in contact with will not take a good look at what their particular badge represented.

"Okay, ready?" Mike said, looking at Connie.

They were actually going to break into an FBI facility.

She looked down the sterile, white hallway, which appeared to stretch out forever.

Being a lawyer, she also knew the full consequences of breaking and entering an FBI office. But they needed that information on Jack. The risk would be worth it.

She hoped.

Connie's heart was suddenly beating faster. She felt her adrenaline pumping.

They were actually going to do it.

Once they started, there would be no turning back.

Connie took a deep breath in and out, trying to even out her heartbeat.

Reaching into her purse, she took out her police baton, given to her by Lupo and Bernard.

Connie turned to Mike and nodded.

Mike nodded confidently back at her.

"NOW!" Mike said decisively.

Mike rushed to the fire alarm unit, pushing down the lever. Instantly the lights flashed on and off as the fire alarm went off.

The sound of a fire alarm bell reverberated throughout the hallway.

Eeee-ahhh Eeee-ahhh

At the same time, Connie ran across and with her baton, smashed the glass of the fire extinguisher, and handed it to Mike.

Mike pulled the pin on the top of the extinguisher. He aimed the fire extinguisher at the surveillance camera and squeezed the lever. The extinguishing chemical coming out of the unit covered the surveillance camera lens completely.

In the meantime, people were quietly walking out of their offices, in a straight line. Obviously they had done fire drills before.

The fire alarm noisily persisted.

Eeee-ahhh Eeee-ahhh

Mike and Connie proceeded the opposite way of the striding FBI agents who were leaving the building. Mike and Connie continued walking towards Kim Brody's office.

As they advanced down the hall, Mike or Connie would utter words like, "Fire Marshall" or "Please proceed in a straight line" to any listening agents leaving the building.

The agents seemed to be buying the whole scenario of two Fire Marshalls with badges, observing fire drill procedures in the hallway.

At one point Mike stopped one of the younger looking agents, who had been walking out the building, hoping he was an intern.

Newbie agents tended to be the most gullible.

"You a junior agent?" Mike asked with an official sounding voice.

"Yes sir!" he said, proud to be singled out by the Fire Marshall.

"Make sure you evacuate everyone, including the agents in the surveillance room."

"Right away!" The intern agent almost saluted.

The hallway lights continued to flash.

The alarm bell became deafening, but they had become accustomed to the loud sound.

Eeee-ahhh Eeee-ahhh

Mike and Connie advanced down the second hallway, the one with Kim Brody's office. They waited at the doorway, allowing the agents to exit the hallway. When no agents were in sight, Mike reached up and covered the second surveillance camera with the rest of the extinguishing chemical from the fire extinguisher.

They then sighted Kim Brody's office door opening.

She was coming out of her office.

Like everyone else, she had to vacate her office. Kim Brody would definitely recognized them, and not as Fire Marshalls.

Mike and Connie swiftly opened the door to the supply room, located two doors down, the only door without an entry code or door number.

In the small room, they listened to all the footsteps passing by, hoping one of the footsteps would be Kim Brody's.

From the bottom slit of the door, they could make out the shadows of footsteps rushing by.

Mike and Connie were breathing hard in the dark, confined room.

Suddenly they were aware they were alone with each other.

The small enclosed room was built to store cleaning and office supplies.

It was not built to hide two individuals, so the supply room had been a tight squeeze for Mike and Connie.

Connie couldn't believe she was feeling hot. And it wasn't due to the temperature of the room. Their bodies were so close together in the tiny, dark confined space. She thought about him in the wire-framed glasses. Looking so intellectually sexy.

Now is not the time to have these thoughts, she willed herself.

Mike was cognizant of Connie standing so close, too. He could actually hear and feel the rhythm of her breathing. Their shoulders were touching. He turned to view her silhouette and realized she was looking in his direction. They were no longer checking out the small opening underneath the door. All he had to do was reach out and—

"Mike," she whispered, her voice a little shaky, "I think everyone has left. I don't hear any more footsteps."

"…Quick then," recovered Mike, "We have less than three minutes before the all- clear bell."

They opened the door.

The hallway was empty.

Eeee-ahhh Eeee-ahhh.

The lights continued to flash.

Mike and Connie rushed to office door #14. Mike got out his small keychain flashlight. He scanned the numbers on Kim Brody's office door code box with the small ray of light and took note of which three button keys of the code box looked the most worn down. Those would be the three numbers used to open her door.

He tried various three number combinations. It was just a matter of time. He knew eventually he'd hit the right order of the three numbers.

He did. The door buzzed and opened.

They entered and quickly went to the one file on her desk.

Connie already had her Blackberry out. She snapped pictures of each page in the file as Mike stood guard.

It was done.

"Let's go!" said Mike.

They covertly walked out of the office, just as the alarm bell and flashing stopped.

R-r-ring!

Another bell signaled the drill was over.

Connie smoothed out her clothes, walked down the hallway, and tried to act as a Fire Marshall again, observing how well the drill went.

The FBI branch office was back to normal. It was as if a fire drill had never occurred. A small number workers again strolled down the hallway, along with Mike and Connie.

The two attorneys tried to maintain a normal walking pace when what they wanted to do was run.

Meanwhile, Kim Brody was over at the surveillance room, viewing the monitors to see what little could be made out from the foamed camera lens. Checking the clipboard, she noted that a fire drill had not been scheduled today.

She knew exactly who pulled this fire drill stunt. If the FBI could get the surveillance tapes cleaned up, there would be a strong possibility it would show Cutter and Rubirosa somewhere on that tape, breaking into an FBI facility.

Kim Brody felt she could use that fact against them, to make them stop searching for Jack McCoy.

She was determined that the FBI locate Jack, not them.

She watched the two figures as they left the building.

"Hmph…novices," she thought, displeased, looking at the screen. Such nuisances. They would just get in the way.

Unfortunately, she knew this would not be the last she would see of them.

She knew how determined the two of them could be.

She continued observing them until they disappeared from the screen.

Her mind had already forgotten about Rubirosa.

She switched her mind to images of her run-ins with Mike Cutter…when she first saw him in the Quit Claim case…in the courtroom proceedings where he was the lead prosecutor, she the defendant…the verbal showdown in front of the grand jury….the parking garage confrontation with the gun…and now covertly breaking into an FBI facility.

He certainly was a man who wore many hats, a man obviously with many talents, she mused. _And,_ Kim Brody added in her thoughts, besides being intelligent, he was attractive.

Yes, that was absolutely an added plus.

Michael Cutter…she will _definitely _keep a vigilant eye on him…

Meanwhile Mike and Connie had walked out of the FBI office door, to the elevator, through the lobby and out the building door.

They were once more on Hudson Street.

Connie heaved a huge sigh of relief.

She couldn't believe they got away with it. At least now they will get some answers regarding Jack. She was anxious to get back to the office.

They started walking back to their car.

A Lincoln Town Car was parked nearby as they hurried down the sidewalk.

The passenger door of the Lincoln car suddenly swung open, just as Mike and Connie were about to walk past it.

From the passenger side of the car, a big, burly man with long hair tied up in a ponytail got out, stuck out his gun, and aimed it directly at them.

"**Get in or you're dead**," he viciously threatened, motioning with his gun.

He looked serious.

Dead serious.

Connie gave a look of apprehension as she turned to look at Mike.

"Damn," she heard Mike say under his breath, "_Now what_?"

.

.

_Okay…read only for entertainment purposes—not for realism! Ha!_

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_(Btw…I saw a few pics of Linus (oh wow, I'm on a first name basis with him!) in wire framed glasses and thought he looked amazing, so I just put it in the story just so I could swoon again; it won't figure in the plot.)_

_Please review!_


	7. Chapter 7

Mike rolls with the punch.

Chapter 7

Mike and Connie had been forced at gunpoint into a Lincoln Town Car.

This did not look good.

These middle aged hoodlums did not look like FBI agents.

Who were these guys, Connie thought as she and Mike were forced into the backseat of the car.

Inside the car was a driver. The tough ponytail man sat in the front passenger side, his gun still aimed at the two of them.

In the backseat sat a man who looked like a rough biker, the number two man. Mike sat in the middle while Connie sat at the other end of the backseat.

The two main goons did not identify themselves.

Ponytail man in front seemed to be the boss.

"What is it you want with us?" Mike demanded to know from the back seat.

"Shut up, you," commented Number two man, who was seated next to Mike.

"That's right. We don't need nothing from either of you," Boss Ponytail man said in an authoritarian voice, from the front seat.

He continued pointing a gun at the two of them.

"If there isn't anything you need from us, then let us go." said Mike.

"We don't _want_ anything from you, but you _need_ to listen to this warning," continued Ponytail man, "**Don't try and find Jack McCoy**."

His voice was low and threatening.

So someone else did not want Mike and Connie involved in the case.

"Why?" asked Mike, "What is it to you two?"

"Shut up, I already told you that!" threatened the Number two man.

The thugs' responses were strange, thought Mike. No violence. Just veiled threats. Also, the car remained stationary. These men weren't driving Mike and Connie anywhere. Strange.

Somehow, Mike felt the act was all bluster with no action. Maybe the two thugs' job was just to scare them. At least he hoped so.

Mike leaned over to Connie, whispering the key word, "Over-talk."

"_That's_ not a warning," said Mike to the two men, hoping Connie followed his lead, "Warnings should be followed by an 'or else.' Where's the follow-through?"

"Yes! You don't scare us! Where's Jack!" Connie burst in, "Where are you hiding him?"

"Dammit, now the broad wants to pipe in, too!" Number two man leaned over to get a good look at her, "if you know what's good for you, you'd shut up, too."

"I will not!" said Connie, sounding indignant, "I have a right to speak my opinion!"

"Leave her out of it... In fact, let her go!" Mike interrupted, "I'll stay and tell you what we know. You don't need her."

"I'm staying," Connie interjecting, their sentences almost overlapping, "They don't scare me."

Connie sure was getting the point of "over-talk" Mike thought.

"Don't listen to her, just let her go!" insisted Mike, "She—"

"I need to stay here until I know what's happened to Jack!" interrupted Connie.

"Your safety is important to me," Mike said in a louder voice over Connie's.

"Don't tell me what to—" Connie raised her voice slightly over Mike's.

"I can't believe you would say —" began Mike again.

"You _should_ believe it, because ever since—" interrupted Connie, even louder.

"Why must you always interrupt—" Mike really raised his voice.

"_I'm_ interrupting? Look at —"Connie barged in.

Throughout Mike and Connie's interaction, Ponytail man sat in the front seat, watching the two lawyers bickering as though it was a tennis match.

However, Number two man in the back seat was losing patience.

"**Jesus Christ**!" Number two man finally yelled to Ponytail man," I'm getting an effing headache! … Bulldog, let me shut them up!"

"I already told you before, let them be!" Ponytail man insisted, from the front seat, his gun still aimed at Mike and Connie.

But somehow it didn't look so threatening any longer.

"Yeah, listen to your boss!" Mike taunted Number two man.

"I agree, and if you hate noise so much, then don't force people into cars!" Connie replied impatiently.

Number two man had it with these two.

His fuse blew faster than anticipated.

He'll teach them a lesson.

Number two man had a bad thought that sounded good to him.

Maybe punching the lawyer guy would shut _both _of them up, he figured.

"I'll show you who's boss!" Number two man exclaimed, as he rolled his hand into a fist.

But Mike was ready.

Mike was good at anticipating a person's move.

This talent of anticipation worked not only in the courtroom, but in life as well.

Like now.

Number two man prepared to strike.

The thug had turned to hit Mike low with a closed fist, but Mike had already prepared himself to be hit in the stomach. First he silently breathed out, which would take most of the air out of his abdomen. Then he clenched his stomach muscles, shifted, and bent more at the waist, thus taking away most of the effectiveness of the blow.

The punch was delivered, low as expected.

But it actually did not hurt Mike.

Much.

A quick observation at the front seat seconds before the punch also told Mike that Boss Ponytail man was getting nervous.

It was now clear to Mike that Ponytail man probably had not plan on using any physical force on Connie and him.

Mike decided to put on an Oscar worthy performance.

A split second after being hit, he bent over.

"Uuuuugggghhhhh"

"Oh God, Mike!" Connie's face was one of horror as she watched him doubled over in "pain". She bent down to the same level as him.

Before letting out another round of agony, he managed to whisper to Connie as she bent low to check on him, "Fake."

It would only take seconds for Connie to react, he knew. It's nice when your working partner is brilliant at figuring out different situations.

Mike stayed bent and pretended a loss of breath. He wheezed and then started coughing uncontrollably.

"Dammit!" said Ponytail man, yelling at Number two man, "didn't I say not to hurt either one of them?"

"Ahhh, Bulldog," reasoned Number two man, "I just knocked the wind out of him that's all."

"His medicine!" Connie feigned panic, "He needs his medicine!"

"What? He some kind of _**pansy **_or something?" Number two man asked.

"He's choking! Can't you see that?" Connie yelled loudly over Mike's retching, "He needs his heart medicine!"

Mike stuck his tongue out and gagged. Followed by more coughing.

"He's gagging! He needs medicine! Let me go to my car! The medicine is just inside my car!" Connie was screaming hysterically now.

She's good at this, Mike thought as he did some heavy wheezing.

The inside of the car was a bedlam of annoying sounds, from convincing hacking noises to loud reprimands from the two prosecutors.

Ponytail man looked stupefied. Mike knew the guy was feeling overwhelmed.

_The situation was out of control._

"Do something! He'll die right in this car!" Connie shrieked.

Mike grabbed his throat and heaved breathlessly, "A-air! A-a-air!"

"Oh no! Mike!" Connie held on to his arm, turned and in a vicious tone lashed out to the bullying men in the car.

"**I just hope he doesn't start spitting out blood**_** like the last time!"**_ she said pointedly.

"Blood? _Blood_? Awww…**Sh-it**!" Ponytail man got out of the car and hastily opened the backseat door.

"**Get the hell out**!" said Ponytail man disgustedly, as he gestured for the two to make a quick exit. He angrily scowled at Mike and Connie.

"..bunch of pansies!" yelled out Number two man.

Connie rolled out first and helped a stumbling, choking Mike out of the car.

Mike had his arm around her shoulder. As Connie dragged Mike back to their car, she heard the last of Ponytail's menacing voice imposed over the choking noises, as the car screeched out of the parking space.

"**This time it's a warning. Next time, some real hurt will take place**," the voice warned through an open window.

Bent over, Mike watched the car until it disappeared from sight. Then he stood up, as if nothing had happened. He now knew those men were just supposed to scare them so they wouldn't try and find Jack.

But why?

Another puzzle to solve. So now, Mike and Connie had the FBI _and_ some thugs after them.

But he was just grateful to get out of that situation, thanks in part to Connie.

"Smart thinking about the medicine in the car." he said to her. "Also, with the comment about spitting up blood. With their simple thinking, they probably would not want to mess up their car seats."

"Thanks, but Mike, are you _sure_ you're alright?" Connie looked concerned.

He smiled to himself, taking pleasure that Connie cared so much.

He liked all this attention.

He liked Connie worrying about him.

Just like the other time when he had been shot.

He liked being pampered.

Especially if the one doing the pampering was Connie.

He slightly bent over again.

"Ooooh, it _is_ a _little_ painful," he faked and held on to his abdomen.

"Oh my…don't' worry Mike," said Connie, looking concerned and taking hold of him once more, "I'll take good care of you."

Truly an Oscar-winning performance, he thought to himself.

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_Please review!_


	8. Chapter 8

Connie tends to Mike.

Chapter 8

The DA's office was quiet because it was the after hours of a workday.

Most offices were dark. Even the janitor had left.

All the workers had gone home whereas Mike and Connie had just arrived.

Mike's arm was around Connie as he hobbled to the long green sofa situated in one of the small empty offices.

When she had left to get some first aid, he languidly stretched out, placing his hands behind his head. He felt totally relaxed.

He was alone now, but Connie would soon return with a glass of water, the first aid kit, and a hot water compress.

All he needed to do was to continue pretending to be injured and then reap the rewards. With Connie playing nurse.

By the time she re-appeared in the room, Mike was again, rolled up and wincing with pain.

He watched as she brought over a chair and tended to him, gently hovering over him as she took his temperature, felt his forehead, gave him some medication and placed the hot water compress on his stomach.

This was like heaven, Mike thought.

"Does it feel better now?" she wanted to know, a worried expression on her face. She was lightly placing the compress in several areas of his stomach.

He looked up at Connie's face with sad puppy dog eyes before slightly grimacing.

"Hmmm…yes…hmm… owww…ooh…" Mike replied, "Oh right there, it feels VERY good".

She settled the hot water compress at that spot while giving him a caring, concerned expression.

He looked sincerely at her.

"Thank you, Connie, I feel better already."

She nodded and got up to leave when he caught her arm.

He did not want to lose an opportunity.

"Connie," he sincerely stated, "I can feel the slight warmth of the compress, but, you know, I think the compress would work better _under_ my shirt."

Connie looked from his eyes, down to his stomach, sending a different kind of warmth throughout Mike's body.

Her lovely brown eyes went back questionably to his face and then she patted him on the arm.

"Alright… if you think that will make you feel better," Connie agreed in a tender but somewhat hesitant voice.

He watched, captivated, as Connie sat above him. He delighted his eyes on her lovely face.

He reveled how she very methodically lifted the front tails of his shirt from the waist of his pants. Slowly she undid the last three buttons of his shirt. His breath caught at the running sensations of her fingers when she unintentionally touched his skin. Then she lightly placed the compress on his stomach.

His body reposed as she smiled dreamily in his eyes.

Everything about her was feminine and alluring, he thought.

Her hand remained on top of the compress as it laid comfortably at his stomach.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He just watched her.

She gazed gently at him with her compassionate brown eyes.

And then it happened.

Before he could instinctively react…_she dumped the warm compress, with the loose top,_ _upside down_, spilling the water all over the bottom of his stomach.

"Yeow!" Mike yelled, as he jumped up.

The warm water did not burn him at all; it was the surprise of the wet liquid. It dripped all the way down his stomach to the top of his pants.

"You _sneak_! YOU are not hurt _at all_!" she announced pointedly, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

So Connie knew all along.

Once Mike recovered from being wet, he tried to hide his grin as Connie handed him a dry towel.

"_Very funny_," he said wiping away as much water as he could with the towel. There was a wet spot at the top of his pants. Embarrassing.

"You can be quite convincing I see," Connie said, "or should I say, quite _conniving_."

He was still wiping with the towel as he looked up and tried to defend himself.

"Why, what do you mean? That wasn't me! I didn't know what I was doing—I think it's the medication you gave me. It's affected my thinking!" he claimed in earnest.

"The medication I gave you?…you mean… the _aspirin_?" she asked.

"I can't help it if my fragile man-body cannot handle any type of mind-altering medication!" he insisted.

They both were trying not to laugh.

A female voice stopped their merriment.

"Stop this already. Too sweet for my taste. This room may turn into cotton candy soon."

It was Kim Brody at the doorway. She rolled her eyes.

Despite her cold exterior, she was quite a beauty, with her shoulder length straight blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, and shapely body.

Connie could see how Kim Brody was able to con so many men from different walks of life, from street thugs to defense lawyers.

She was quite a lovely vision.

Kim Brody confidently walked in as if she owned the entire DA building.

"Did you really think you could break into an FBI branch office without us knowing?" Kim Brody crossed her arms, again showing impatience, "you two are total amateurs."

"So arrest us." Mike was calling her bluff. "We are state prosecutors. We can easily defend ourselves against an FBI agent who pulled a gun on an unarmed U.S. citizen with no probable cause"

"Not only that," Connie added, "Maybe the public would like to hear how the FBI tried to conceal the abduction of a government official."

"Stop this already, I get it." Kim Brody said as she sat, uninvited, in a chair and crossed her long legs, "I can see that you are in for the long haul. Just like before. You win. For now."

She somehow always managed to look detached from the situation, almost bored.

"Then tell us what you know about what happened to Jack McCoy," Mike stated.

It took all of Kim Brody's willpower not to roll her eyes.

She gave an obvious sigh. It was as if they were going around in circles. They just didn't get it. They didn't need this information because the FBI, and most notably she, will locate Jack.

"You might as well tell us what you know," Connie reasoned, "After all, I have all your information about Jack stored in my Blackberry anyway."

And there's the rub.

What Rubirosa stated was true.

Kim Brody really did not want to reveal what she knew about Jack McCoy's disappearance. But they would find out everything eventually.

She was beginning to really hate Rubirosa's persistence.

But then again, there was Mike, Kim Brody thought.

At least she could focus her attention on him.

She grudgingly relented.

She was going to tell them everything she knew about Jack.

Because she already had a plan.

To find Jack.

And hook Mike at the same time.

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_Glad you're still reading! Please review._


	9. Chapter 9

Mike and Connie know the reason for Jack's disappearance.

Chapter 9

As the three of them sat in the empty DA's office building, Kim Brody presented a framework of what she knew about the case.

_Over twenty years ago Don Lewis aka Don Lang had been the personal physician to the Fatone mob boss. _

_Don Lewis, or actually Don Lang then, became an FBI informant against the Fatone mob. _

_The Fatone family have been searching for Don Lewis/Lang ever since. _

_So for the past 20 years Don Lang has been living under a new identity; given a new life, courtesy of the FBI._

_But the Fatone family still wanted to silence him forever._

_Yet they have been unsuccessful in locating him._

_The Fatone mob's strategy, therefore, had been to bring Lang out in the open by threatening to harm his family and friends._

That explained the possible demise of both women in the picture, Claire Kincaid and Don Lewis/Lang's wife.

"Then…Claire Kincaid…" Connie began slowly, "hers was not a accidental car crash?"

"It appeared to be a car accident back then," said Kim Brody. "We never informed the police about Lang's secret identity. Back then, the coroner had no reason to perform any drug tests. We now suspect her drink may have been tampered with that last night she lived."

"How could Don Lang gamble with Claire's life like that?" Mike asked, "Why didn't he turn himself over to the Fatones to prevent them from killing someone innocent?"

"The FBI may be slightly guilty for that one, I'm afraid," Kim Brody admitted, "Of course, this happened well before I came aboard. The Fatones gave Lang 3 days to exchange her life for his. The FBI convinced Lang that we could save Claire Kincaid by capturing the entire Fatone family. But unfortunately time ran out for us…so their threat was carried out. A tragedy, really."

Poor Claire.

Poor Jack.

"—And Don Lewis', I mean, Don Lang's wife?" asked Mike.

She probably had also met with foul play by the Fatones," Kim Brody said, "Another failure, this time by me. I thought I had wiped out the family." Her expression didn't change, "This latest incident with McCoy proved I hadn't."

"So Jack is the latest person they have abducted in order to get to Don Lang." Connie concluded, "They plan to trade Jack McCoy for Don Lang."

"—And then eventually kill Don Lang," Mike added.

Kim Brody nodded, "Don Lang was instrumental in me locating part of the Fatone family. He deserves his new life. We at the FBI plan to find Jack _and_ keep Don Lang safe."

"Does the FBI know where Don Lang is now?" Mike asked.

Kim Brody shook her head, "He has dropped off our radar, unfortunately."

"So he is finding it hard to trust the FBI, also." Connie noted.

Kim Brody gave Connie a chilly look, "You are not helping matters."

The silence was deafening in the room.

Mike cleared his throat and stood up.

"Look, this is going to be one long night. Why don't I get us some coffee?" he offered, as he left to go to the break room, "And I think, uh, I probably need a change of pants, too."

He got up and departed from the room.

Kim Brody and Connie were alone in the office.

"So, I gather from the scene I witnessed earlier, that you two are an item?" Kim Brody's tone sounded monotone.

Connie was surprised at the question and was curious as to why Kim Brody would even be interested in the answer.

"That is on a need-to-know-basis," answered Connie, "and you obviously don't need to know."

Kim Brody stared coolly at Connie. Then she confidently sat back.

"Touché " Kim Brody conceded, "but actually you've answered my question. If you two _had_ been involved, I believe a woman like _you_ would admit it to a woman like _me_."

There was silence in the room once more.

Kim Brody confidently leaned back to get comfortable. She glanced around with disinterest and saw Connie's novel sticking out from one of the outside pockets of her briefcase.

"Ahh," Kim Brody said, "An Alexandria Andrews fan."

If it had been any other person, Connie would have loved to discuss the many sequels of her favorite author.

"I find her stories intriguing," Connie answered tersely.

"Have you read the latest one?" Kim Brody asked, with no particular interest in Connie's reply, "Alexandria hooks up with Trent Maxwell, international spy."

"I'd like to read the latest series on my own, if you don't mind," said Connie, "you don't need to spoil the plot for me."

"Oh, of course," said Kim Brody, glancing at her own nicely manicured nails, "I myself find it hard to finish the books because…well my life is _so_ much more exciting than any plot in those books."

If Kim Brody was trying to irritate Connie, it was certainly working.

Kim Brody continued.

"Also I've noticed that those novels don't necessarily portray the real lives of agents. In actuality, we agents find it difficult to maintain a relationship."

Connie didn't have an answer to that.

It didn't matter, for Kim Brody was no longer interested in talking with Connie.

Kim Brody was staring off, looking somewhere outside of the small office.

Connie followed Kim Brody's gaze and saw, through the varied windows, Mike approaching with three hot cups of coffee.

Kim Brody proceeded to watch Mike through the window, "Regretfully, unlike the heroine in the book, I have no Trent Maxwell in my life… "

"…yet…" she added, wistfully focusing on Mike, to Connie's consternation.

Mike entered, oblivious to the earlier conversation, and passed out the coffee.

Connie noticed how Kim Brody gave a flirtatious smile to Mike as she accepted the coffee cup.

Kim Brody shifted herself differently on the chair and let her skirt ride even higher.

Mike didn't seem to notice as he sat next to Connie on the long sofa.

It was now time for Kim Brody to reveal her plan.

"Here is the update on the McCoy case," Kim Brody stated in a matter-of-fact way, "I've made arrangements for the three of us to stay at an FBI "safe house" located near Central Park. We will be staying together in a hotel room."

When she said they would be together in a hotel room, her eyes focused on Mike.

Mike and Connie looked at each other.

The three of them sharing a hotel room?

"Do you really think that is necessary?" Connie asked.

Kim forced herself to turn to Connie.

"If you want to remain safe, yes. You have unknown people chasing you. They know who and where you are. You don't even know _who_ they are. You tell me who has the upper hand."

"I think we are doing fine on our own," Connie pointed out.

"That is very foolish thinking," Kim Brody pointed out, "You need us. With me you can be under the protection of the FBI. Plus the FBI has unlimited resources."

"But for how long?" Mike asked.

"Until we find McCoy," Kim Brody answered him with a smile, "after all, we are a team now."

Kim Brody told them they were a team because she knew that is what they wanted to hear.

But that wasn't really the reason all of them needed to stay at a hotel together.

She actually had three good reasons for keeping the three of them in one place.

The first reason was that she knew this was the only way she could watch them, to make sure they didn't do things on their own.

The second reason was that they actually might help lead her to McCoy. Unbeknowest to them, she had read the updated Volchek file and knew of their involvement in capturing him and his brother. She had to admit that they seemed to be very resourceful.

And, of course, the last reason is she would be sharing a room with Michael Cutter.

It was a win-win-win-win situation for Kim Brody and the FBI.

Connie noticed the looks Kim Brody was beaming to Mike throughout the entire interactions.

She realized Kim Brody's plans included more than just finding Jack McCoy. Her plans also included getting Mike.

Yet she could do nothing about it for she also knew they _did_ need Kim Brody's help. She just hoped she wouldn't live to regret it.

As they got up to go to the hotel, Connie feared she might lose the two most important men in her life.

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_My goodness…__**thank you**__ for all the reviews—you reviewers are the absolute best!_

_If you have never reviewed before—give it a try! It's fun being part of the story!_

_I hope I explained the case well enough! _

_Hope you keep reading._

_And remember, you still have the romance to look forward to! (soon, but not yet)_


	10. Chapter 10

Mike and Connie's first "sleepover"

Chapter 10

The Manhattan Bridge Hotel was located on Chrystie Street, within walking distance of One Hogan Place. It stood out from the many hotel structures due to its light gray color. The building itself was very simple, showing a series of rectangular windows all the way up to its 20th floor. A rusty fire escape could be seen bolted against one outside wall of the building. The hotel must have been built decades ago.

The accommodations were very simplistic in décor and style. . There was a painted picture of a bowl of fruit, hanging on the wall. The headboard of the bed, armoire, and round table were all stained in the same very dark brown, giving it a very dated look. A flat-screened TV was positioned on one shelf of the armoire. Two table lamps with trapezoid shades stood at each side of the bed.

The three entered and looked around their austere living quarters.

"Not the fanciest, but it will do," Kim Brody said, "They're having a cot brought in, and you," she pointed at Mike, "will be sleeping on that."

"I'll look forward to it," he said wryly.

Once they settled in, Kim Brody tried to ascertain additional information from Mike and Connie.

"I've noticed you were made unwelcomed guests of a Lincoln Town Car today," Kim Brody stated.

"Nothing escapes the FBI, does it?" he asked.

Mike filled her in on what took place while Connie kept quiet.

"Any way to identify those thugs?" Kim Brody asked.

Mike mentioned how Number two man called Ponytail man 'Bulldog.'

And that Bulldog seemed to be calling the shots.

Kim's eyes immediately lit up when she heard the name "Bulldog". She had dealt with him many times.

Bulldog aka Adrian Brown, was a bounty hunter, she explained to them. His job was to find people and bring them to his current client. With this new information, Kim Brody figured out who the client was, and therefore, Bulldog's connection to the case.

_Most likely, Bulldog had been hired by Don Lang to try and find McCoy and make sure the District Attorney is safe. That was probably the reason why Bulldog was merely trying to scare Mike and Connie with no actual physical harm involved. The bounty hunter just wanted them away from the case so he could collect the reward._

"How do you know he wasn't hired by the Fatones? It makes a difference if he was hired by the good guy, meaning Don Lang, or the bad guys meaning the Fatones," asked Mike.

"Couldn't be the Fatones... Number one, you'd be dead, and number two, you'd be dead." Kim Brody stated, making a point.

"So, where do we go from here?" asked Mike.

"Bulldog's hangout. I know it. We'll visit him tomorrow." Said Kim Brody, "he'll lead us to Don Lang."

"Why not go now?" Connie asked.

"Look," said Kim Brody sounded impatient again, "Let me call the shots. Don't question what I do. I tell you when and where. There is a reason for everything that I do. We have time."

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Mike asked.

"We need to get some rest," said Kim Brody, "It will be a long day tomorrow."

Mike turned to look at Connie. She hadn't said much since this afternoon.

"You okay? You seemed quiet," he looked slightly worried.

"Fine and dandy," Connie faked.

But in reality, Connie was feeling uncomfortable with Kim Brody's private admission regarding her attraction to Mike.

Kim Brody looked unconcerned with Connie's quiet behavior.

But she was satisfied that thanks to the lawyers, they now had a lead to follow.

Bulldog could eventually help them locate Jack McCoy.

Kim Brody was observing the two lawyers.

Those two were so determined, Kim Brody thought. She knew they would not give up looking for Jack McCoy. She hated the kind of loyalty these two were displaying towards their boss.

To her, it was just a job. A job she was very good at.

Mike and Connie knew they also needed Kim Brody's help. She was the only one who knew the location of Bulldog.

They realized it would be futile to go to the police now to report a missing person.

The FBI would have precedence over a case like this and Kim Brody would take over the case anyway.

Kim Brody reached into her jacket and removed her Glock 23 from its holster.

Mike gestured at the gun.

"That FBI standard issue?" he asked.

She made sure the magazine was out and also the bullet chamber was emptied.

She liked that Mike was showing some interest, and smiled for only the second time that day.

"That and a 12 gauge shot gun," she explained, "…I also keep a small Glock 27 as a backup weapon. And you?"

Mike displayed his Beretta M9. He also dropped the magazine and then he pulled the slide back to make sure his gun was emptied, too.

Kim Brody indicated with her head to Mike.

"Let me see your stuff." She said to him.

"Uh…I beg your pardon?" Mike asked.

"Let me see how fast you can draw."

"You want me to draw my gun from the holster? I feel silly drawing on nothing," said Mike, "besides, I have no desire to show off."

Kim groaned to herself. Showing off to another agent was par for the course when working for the FBI. But then, he was merely a civilian. He didn't understand how agents operate. She would not show frustration. After all, it was _him_.

"I've already explained I do everything for a reason," she said trying to sound patient, "A partner wants to know whether or not she can count on a person to guard her back. So show me."

Connie noticed Kim Brody already considered Mike a "partner."

Kim Brody's reasoning for a quick draw made sense. Mike nodded and put his emptied gun back into his holster. A pause.

He then snapped the Beretta from its holster.

Lightening quick.

For the first time Kim Brody's eyes sparkled in admiration.

"Impressive."

Connie felt like a third wheel.

"Anyone can be fast," reminded Mike, "But speed isn't as important as accuracy."

"You're right," Kim Brody said, "So I'll tell you what. Early tomorrow morning I'll take you to the FBI driving range. We'll hone our skills there. We may need it later."

"What about Connie?" asked Mike as he glanced her way. Obviously he didn't want her left out.

"Uh…don't worry about me," Connie tried to think of something, "The Doorman/hired gun case. I can walk over to the office and work on that. I heard you handed the case to Tom Bailey."

Mike nodded, "Actually that might be a good idea. It may look too suspicious in the office with the three of us gone."

So it was decided.

Connie to do paperwork.

Mike and Kim Brody together.

How convenient, thought Connie sardonically.

"Good. It is decided. Tomorrow, the shooting range," said Kim Brody as she watched Connie's reaction, "…it's a date."

.

Later they had finished dinner and arrived back to the hotel. It was an uncomfortable dinner, to say the least.

Although the meal itself was good, Mike and Connie ate very little, their minds focused on finding Jack.

Kim Brody also ate very little, saying she rarely eats when she is in the middle of a case because the case is all she can focus on.

The cot had already been wheeled in. It was determined that Kim Brody and Connie would share the Queen sized bed. Connie noticed that Kim Brody had Mike's cot wheeled to _her_ side of the bed.

Mike later wheeled the cot to the other side (Connie's side), insisting that he liked to sleep next to a window.

Kim didn't look too happy with that decision.

The three settled down for the night.

Kim Brody was the first one to sleep, as Connie could hear her slowed breathing.

Some time had passed. It was hard for Connie to sleep.

Connie could make out Mike's silhouette in the dark.

"… Connie, are you awake?" Mike whispered.

"Yes."

"This feels like sleep- away camp in the summertime, doesn't it?" Mike whispered to her.

Connie smiled to herself.

She liked the idea of being with Mike day and night.

"It does! So then… tell me a scary story, just like at camp." Connie whispered happily.

"Okay…wait…let me think…I've got it…"His voice had a smile to it, " the _scariest_ story I can think of is about the FBI…_The story is about an FBI agent. A very ill-tempered FBI agent."_

"Really?" Connie asked sarcastically, "Are there ill-tempered FBI agents?"

"_Yes, and she was... I mean, yes, __**he**__ was, for we are talking about a random agent, right? So the story is about a male FBI agent. He was known as someone who ate very little because the case is all he can focus on_."

Connie smiled, recalling how Kim Brody made that exact statement earlier in the night.

"_He had disappeared for a week_," continued Mike in a hushed tone, "_It was as if he disappeared into thin air. So an FBI search party was formed, but to no avail. Finally the search party made a discovery in a lone cabin up in the hills. The search party was shocked at what they found up there."_

"What? **What**?" Connie insisted softly, actually caught up in the made-up story.

"_They found the missing FBI agent_," Mike continued in the same quiet voice, "_But this lone FBI agent had been found unconscious due to starvation. Luckily, he survived. But barely. It was so strange. Especially since there was actually food in the cupboard. Also his vehicle was working and there was a country store just two miles down the hill. But rather than get some food, he starved."_

"That _is_ strange. So what did the search party conclude?" she quietly asked.

"That's the kicker," he whispered back, "you see—"

"**Shut up you two and get some sleep**!" yelled a very cross Kim Brody from across the bed.

Connie smiled again. She liked that he had made up a scary story about a senseless FBI agent to entertain her.

She liked keeping company with Mike.

"Good night, Mike," she said as she pleasantly snuggled in the covers.

"Night to you, too, Connie," he whispered back.

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_Whew. Hope I explained the plot well enough!_

_With the exposition out of the way, let's move the story forward…_

_Please review.  
_


	11. Chapter 11

Mike and Connie talk.

Chapter 11

**The Next Day**

Connie was back in the DA's office.

Back to the familiar surroundings of folders, file cabinets, and office mates. She could hear the phones and fax machines ringing in the background.

And here she was, back working on a case. Working on the Doorman/hired hitman case.

The Prosecution could definitely put this case in the "win" column. Not only did police have the Doorman on tape hiring the undercover policeman, but the Doorman also used illegal money to pay him off.

The case was almost handed over on a silver platter.

Connie felt distracted. She kept wondering what Mike and Kim Brody were doing.

Her Blackberry rang. Connie checked the ID.

It was Mike.

She felt better.

"Hi Mike," said Connie, trying to sound cheerful, "how was target practice?"

"Great. The FBI practice range is state-of-the-art. Kim is a great shot, too."

"Oh."

"Uh…Connie, you sure you are alright?" Mike asked.

Connie felt annoyed. Not at Mike, really. Although when he said "Kim", the tone sounded too familiar. Of course, that could just be her imagination.

Kim Brody could not help it if she was beautiful, bright, and talented. The list seemed to go on.

Connie also hated being thought of as an unnecessary part of their case.

"Yes, I'm here…sorry, just thinking about the Doorman case," said Connie, which she wasn't.

"Oh?" asked Mike, "a new development?"

"Just that the Doorman allegedly paid the undercover cop with money he used on a check scam." Connie explained inattentively.

"Oh, so our win becomes even bigger," Mike said, "This reminds me how I really miss being in the office."

With you, wished Connie. She wanted Mike to say, "I really miss being in the office with you."

Why couldn't _she_ say it first to him? Maybe because she had no actual claim on him. Also she was afraid he might enjoy being _out_ of the office with Kim Brody more.

After all, Kim Brody obviously enjoyed being with Mike.

"I just hope we find Jack soon," Mike thought out loud, "Actually Kim has been a considerable help with her knowledge of the case."

"Yes, she's been great." Connie said, hoping the tone didn't sound sarcastic.

Even if Kim Brody weren't after Mike, Connie would not have liked Kim Brody, Connie thought to herself.

This dislike first surfaced when Kim Brody confiscated Jack's picture.

Which reminded her. She really wanted Jack's picture back.

"Uh…Mike…I was wondering if you might do something for me."

"What's that?" asked Mike.

"Could you get that old picture of Jack and his friends back from Kim Brody?"

"And why," asked Mike, "would she just hand it over to _me_?"

"Surely, Mike, you realize that Kim Brody has a thing for you?"

She hoped she didn't sound catty.

Silence.

He did not deny it.

Connie could not help herself by adding, "Use your male charms on her."

"You mean…" he paused for effect, "You want me to '_pimp_' myself out?"

Connie knew he was referring to the time she crossly told him that he was pimping her out to the jury, when all he did was have her question a witness, knowing one of the jurors found her attractive.

"I didn't say that. But we really need get that photo back." Connie said, wondering why she sounded so aggravated, "It's really Jack's picture. It belongs to him. And this case is about him, remember?"

"I'm quite aware of that," he sounded cold.

She was surprised that he didn't accuse her of being jealous. He had before. She would deny it, of course.

But they both knew the truth.

The conversation had gone from satisfactory to awful. Connie just wanted to end the call.

They ended the call with Mike being vague on whether he planned to get the picture back.

Connie felt bad how she talked to Mike; it wasn't his fault. But the uncertainty of the relationship and her pride would not let her call him back.

It was now lunchtime. The DA's office was slowly being cleared of workers as they strolled out for their daily lunch.

Connie ate lunch at her desk. Alone.

She checked her watch and got out her new book _Motion to Dismiss_. She planned to read for the rest of her lunchtime before returning back to the hotel. Maybe the story will take her mind off of the case. And off of Kim Brody. And off of Mike most of all.

She sighed with sadness, thinking the distance between her and Mike was widening. She wished so much to be with him, but here she was.

She opened the book and once again became involved in Alexandria's escapades.

Almost an hour later, she felt the presence of someone at her desk.

Connie looked up and was surprised to see Mike. She hadn't expected to see him here in the office since they had that uncomfortable conversation.

They faced one another guardedly.

He watched her with an expression she could not read.

She could only look back up at him, not knowing what to say.

Her eyes followed his movement as he reached into his pocket and wordlessly dropped something on her desk.

It was Jack's 20 year-old picture.

Connie's relief soared a little before it sank.

She didn't want Mike to leave like this.

"Mike, look, I'm sorry,"

She stood from her chair so that she was on the same level as him. "I don't know why I said all those nonsensical things."

To her relief, Connie saw the corners of Mike's mouth turning up, forming a smile.

There was hope.

"I don't know, either, but don't ever pimp me out again!"

Whatever awkwardness they felt was over for now.

They gazed at each other from across Connie's desk. He was watching her with a quiet intensity. She could drown in the blues of his eyes forever, she thought. Looking at him, thinking of him, being with him.

She was glad he had come by the office.

He looked down at her book and then back at her.

"I hope you are not planning to read in the office on a beautiful day like today." He stuffed his hands in his pocket, watching her with those gorgeous blue eyes of his.

She smiled at him.

"Well, lately I haven't had much time to read. I've been busy with breaking into government offices and being abducted by bounty hunters," Connie quipped.

Mike grinned. A good sign.

"Well, you did want an adventure…" Mike reminded her.

Yes, that is true, isn't it?" Connie asked before adding, "But let's just do _legal or sane _adventures!"

Connie was glad things were back to as they were before.

"By the way, where is Kim?" Connie inquired.

Kim Brody. _That's _why she was so upset.

Mike shrugged, "We finished target shooting and then I told her I wanted to pick you up. So she went to the FBI office to get some of her paperwork done."

And Kim Brody probably didn't like Mike's plan.

But Connie did.

Mike gestured with his head to leave.

"Come on, I'll take you back to the hotel." He smiled sincerely at Connie, showing his deep dimples.

It seemed as if all was forgiven.

They walked out the door of the building, out to the sunshine.

Due to the beautiful climate, the crowds of people and cars seemed to multiply as they went about their businesses, throughout the streets and sidewalks of New York City.

Mike opened the door that led out of the DA's office building.

A slight breeze could be felt as Connie exited the building. She looked down to smooth out her scarf.

When she looked up again, she stopped almost in mid-stride.

She drew her breath sharply in at the sight in front of her.

**Parked on the curb was a horse drawn white carriage.**

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_Oh, yes! A horse drawn white carriage! Squee! _

_I've always felt Mike would be the type of person to do something like that for Connie, right?_

_Please review this chapter…_


	12. Chapter 12

A simple romance begins.

Chapter 12

A beautiful white horse was attached to the fairy tale carriage.

The cab itself was a perfectly white, opened-style carriage, enhanced by luxurious red cushions. The body design of the carrier was a singular elegant curve, with a dropped base in the center to allow passengers to enter.

The small, elegant carriage accommodated two facing passenger seats. A soft accordion top in back had been folded down

The carriage driver sat on a small perch in the front. He was appropriately costumed in an aristocratic red jacket, white pants, tall black boots and an evening black hat.

He tipped his hat when he spotted Connie.

The vintage hansom cab conjured up poetic visions of simpler times, when New York City moved at a slower pace.

Connie stared in amazement.

"What is all this?" she asked breathlessly, slowly turning to look at him.

Mike had been also observing the cab, but now turned to face her.

"Connie, I am courting you."

Connie's heart tugged at this the simple declaration.

He gallantly led her to the center of the carriage. He stood straight, placed his left hand behind him, leaned slightly forward, and brought his bent right arm high, palm up.

"M'lady," he humbly stated as she placed her hand in his in order to enter the cab.

It was daytime, in the middle of a workweek, in the busiest city in the world, yet Connie felt at this moment that they were the only two people present.

Mike sat across from her. The carriage wheels started turning and they started moving.

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

Connie delighted in the motion of the carriage.

Her gaze swept appreciatively over his face, taking note of his blue eyes, smiling in amusement.

Then Mike reached in back of him and produced a bright bouquet of white daisies, to Connie's delight.

She reached out and happily received the daisies in both hands and smelled the freshly picked petals.

"Mike, these are absolutely lovely! And the carriage ride! I have lived here almost all my life and I never rode in one of these!" She looked around, absorbed in the surroundings

"I'm glad you are pleased," he commented.

The horse drawn carriage would take them straight to 8th Avenue, through the financial district, and finally ending up at their hotel near Central Park

"How did you ever arrange this?" Connie said, "there are never any horse- drawn carriages in the middle of business streets in the daytime!"

"A suitor never gives away his secrets," said Mike, answered with a wink.

The quaint cab slowly passed rows and rows of modern day business structures. Connie could hear the clip clop as the horse made its way through the streets.

The hansom cab proceeded to the busier parts of the city.

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

Lunchtime meant a deluge of cars and people would be out and about.

Connie was afraid the hansom cab would slow down the bustling traffic downtown, causing people to complain about their presence.

But, if anything, it had the opposite reaction.

It was a bright, beautiful day and the sunlight must have scattered cheeriness upon New York City, for people on the streets or in cars everywhere happily waved, honked, or gave encouraging words, as the carriage proceeded down the street.

Connie turned her attention to her companion. Mike was taking in the entire atmosphere. He was leaned back, staring out, his arm casually resting on the top of the velvet cushion. His hair lightly waved through the slight breeze. He seemed totally relaxed.

And totally handsome.

He turned when he sensed Connie watching him.

"So what are you thinking?" he asked, tilting his head.

"That sometimes you could be _so_ very charming!"

"Just sometimes?" he teased, with that same intense look.

"When we are not arguing the merits of a case, you are totally, completely charming!"

That seemed to satisfy him.

The wheels of the old-fashioned carriage continued to roll slowly through the city.

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

They passed various tall buildings, many with their glass windows producing a glare from the sunlight. Beech trees lining the sidewalks guarded the structures.

Office workers spilled out of buildings, and cars crammed the streets, as Manhattan embraced the workday week.

Mike watched as Connie happily viewed the busy sights.

Connie turned to him with a smile.

"I can tell you that I love being wooed!" Connie said, happily taking another whiff of the daisies.

Mike smiled back, happy that she was appreciative of what he had done.

Watching her, he thought she was the most enchanting woman in all of New York City.

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

As the carriage stopped at the red light, Connie observed a little girl at the corner with her mother, pointing at the horse and cab. Connie waved to the little girl, as the little girl waved back. Connie smiled and plucked one of the daisies from her bouquet and reached out to the little girl. The little girl looked at her mother, who nodded, and then reached out to take the daisy. As the green light displayed, the little girl waved good-bye, with the new flower in her tiny hand.

A construction worker, wearing a hard hat and a white tee shirt, had observed what happened and called out, "Hey lovely lady, how 'bout some love for this big lug?" he requested, proudly sticking out his gut as he stood at a construction site. Connie laughingly reached over to hand him a daisy. He took the flower, blew a kiss and waved to the cab as they continued.

They proceeded at a relaxing pace.

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

The people at the bus stop down the block had been watching the white carriage as it streamed along the city street. So by the time it reached them, they were already clapping and waving and cheering. Connie was so touched with the gesture. She rewarded them each with a daisy. The bus stop people merrily accepted the flowers and attempted to do a "wave" with the flowers, making Connie laugh.

Mike watched, feeling elated at how thoroughly enthralled Connie was with the ride, with the city. He liked that she wanted everyone to share her happiness. By the time she was finished with her daisy-giving gesture, she only had one flower remaining.

She sat back in the cab.

"And this one, "she said holding up the last daisy, "is the one I will keep for myself because it is the most perfect one of all!"

"And what will you do with your one and only daisy?" asked Mike, pleased.

"I already know," said Connie, "I will dry it and then preserve it. After, it will become my special bookmark! Then every time I read my book, I will be reminded of this day!"

Mike's look was all consuming.

Connie thought he looked ruggedly attractive, in contrast to the fanciful carriage. She liked that he didn't mind riding in a regal cab in the middle of New York City. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

But that was because he loved watching her delighted reactions.

She felt the butterflies in her stomach. This time she knew it wasn't the type of butterflies she got when she was nervous.

It only happened when Mike looked at her.

The way he gazed at her affected her profoundly.

Just like how he was looking at her now, and how she was looking back at him.

She knew her heart fluttered with feelings for him.

And her pulse raced because she desired him.

Her gaze traveled down to his mouth. She remembered the warmth and taste of him.

Her face blushed at the thoughts she was thinking.

Looking away, she tried to focus on other things.

Otherwise, she might kiss him.

But she knew now was not the time, for they were not really alone and New York City stretched before them.

Connie reached out and lightly brushed the top of his hand. He smiled at her. She felt a delighted satisfaction as he curled his strong hand over hers. Just the touch of his warm hand sent a jolt up her arm. His touch reassured her before their hands gently released and they sat back to continue their romantic journey.

She continued to wave to admiring crowds as the fantasy carriage rode down the street.

Connie spotted a couple strolling, arm in arm. They seemed only involved with each other. At the sound of the carriage, the young woman looked up. She sighted the hansom cab, and adoringly placed her hand over her heart. Her boyfriend noticed her enamored gesture. He responded by hugging her even tighter. Connie was touched by this simple act of the loving couple.

A reverie drifted into her mind.

She had deep feelings for Mike.

The thought was at first exhilarating, but then a different realization settled in.

And it troubled her.

Mike had noticed a change in her expression, from the happiness she had been experiencing earlier.

She seemed lost in thought.

"Is everything alright?" asked Mike, "Are you not enjoying the ride?"

"Oh! Yes! Absolutely! It's more than I could ever have imagined!" she insisted.

"But..." he encouraged her.

Connie was unsure what she should say.

She looked up and watched the sun, as it came in and out of the tall buildings.

Down on the street, the traffic continued to whiz on by.

People were waiting at the corner to cross the street. Some others cheered. A few individuals smiled and waved at the sight of the carriage.

A teenager cupped her hands and yelled, "You go, girl!"

Connie still cheerily waved back before retracting back into the carriage.

"But what?" Mike asked gently, knowing it was something meaningful that she wanted to say.

It was such a perfect day, thought Connie, but Mike deserved an explanation if they were ever to move forward.

As Connie sat in the cab, she turned from the public to face Mike.

"About us…about a relationship…well, really, about us," she repeated, "I know I had been so unclear about our involvement. But I want you to know why I have been so hesitant about us."

"Go on," Mike encouraged.

.

.

_Please review_

_A little bittersweet, I know, but I thought it was important for them to discuss their relationship, right?_

_The carriage ride continues in the next chapter. Don't worry, it'll get better…_

_(re: Finding Jack. Jack is not far from their minds. They've only recently received enough info to find him. Believe it or not, these 12 chapters have only covered two days!) _


	13. Chapter 13

Connie tells her story.

And the romance continues.

Chapter 13

Connie listened to the rhythm of the horse's hooves on the street.

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

The white wheels of the carriage advanced slowly as it must have done long ago, at the turn of the century.

Connie took in the lovely weather, the beautiful carriage ride and most of all, being alone with Mike.

The sun felt warm as it shone down on the white cab. The breeze had died down a bit, but it still managed to ruffle through her hair.

Connie took a deep breath before she began.

She would finally tell Mike about her involvement with Marcus Woll.

"I know I was rather short with you when we first discussed him, attributing it to being that life just happens. I told you I was young and easily influenced."

"-And I should not have commented that what you had done was stupid," Mike said softly, "That was a bit insensitive. I am sorry for saying that. I guess I was just jealous. I hated the thought that you could ever be with someone like him."

Mike couldn't even say Marcus Woll's name.

Connie looked down and nodded as if she understood. Then she looked straight at Mike, monitoring his reactions.

I know it's hard for you to believe, but Marcus Woll was very charming in his own way," Connie continued, "he was the type that made you believe all the lies coming out of his mouth. This easy manipulation of words also contributed to his success as a lawyer."

She paused to make that point and then continued.

"Anyway, we had been working on this case. A very complicated case in which we had spent many late nights together, pouring over different angles of the case. Sometimes we'd need to take a break and he would ask questions about me, wanting to know about me. He showed interest in me. I-I thought he cared about me."

At this point, she looked ahead, afraid to look at Mike.

"So this one time he had brought wine," she said, "now, I am not using that as an excuse, believe me. But in addition to the wine, he said the right things to me. Gave me the perfect compliments. Pretended I was different from others he knew. I felt special, so very special… and…that was the night it happened."

She exhaled. The hard part was over.

She turned back to look at Mike, who was watching her with a concerned scowl on his face.

She continued.

"Little did I know that Marcus was spending time with almost anyone who wore a skirt in the office. Unfortunately—and too late, I found out- he had kept this…this list of his conquests… with rankings. He started bragging to everyone at work about that list. Ruined many women's reputations, let me tell you. The women on the list… and I… couldn't do anything about it since we could not actually deny it. The existence of this list seemed to circulate throughout the entire courthouse. So, even now, every time any officer or employee of the court looked at me in a different way, I would think, 'oh, that person _knows._'"

Mike reached over and put his hand over hers.

His hand felt warm and strong.

"Connie, you have proven yourself over and over again. Your work stands on its own merits. You deserve all the accolades that have come your way," assured Mike.

Connie shook her head, staring straight ahead, "Perhaps…I thought so, too. I _thought_ I might be able to overcome it. My reputation, my career meant everything to me. I worked longer and harder than everyone else in the office—except, maybe you," at this she smiled at him, "I thought, yes, people could respect me for my work again. I was happily building a different type of reputation."

Then the smile disappeared.

"But then I met you. My boss."

They looked at each other, Mike now somewhat understood why their signals always got crossed.

"I tried my best to concentrate on my work," Connie continued, "I tried very hard to avoid these feelings. But here they are. Now you tell me," she looked into the depth of his eyes, "how will it look if I become involved with my boss, _again_?"

Mike could not think of an answer to reassure her. He knew the words would not ring true.

She was correct with everything she said.

Her reputation as a hard-driving, dedicated prosecutor _would_ be put in question again. That was the plight of an attractive female working in an office environment.

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

The scenery of the hectic city life was changing.

They were passing through Central Park now.

The high- rise business buildings was suddenly replaced with lush green trees and grassy meadows. Connie tried to focus on the graceful landscape.

After all, she reminded herself, she was partaking in the most romantic ride in the world.

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

Central Park unfolded before her. The natural green foliage enclosed the huge park. She thought about how she had always loved Central Park.

And now Central Park became even more memorable sharing them with Mike.

The driver had taken a shortcut through the park by having the carriage roll through one of the pathways where few tourists knew of its existence.

"I've never been through this area of the park," she said, looking all around in amazement, "this area especially is so serene. It seems totally isolated from the bustling city life."

Winding pedestrian pathways were separated from the main roads. The area was like an English style landscape complete with green grasses, a lake, a stoned bridge and rolling hills.

A large number of green trees guarded the area from most of New York City's noises, traffic and buildings.

A quaint modest castle had been built in the middle of this English-like meadow.

"It's breathtaking," Mike commented, but he was looking at her.

Connie would not admit it to anyone, but she had always dreamed of a man that would woo, charm and love her.

Someone like Mike.

The driver had wisely stopped for a minute so the couple could view the scenery.

Mike had always known the feminine yet strong side of her. And he had witnessed her determination when working on a case.

But he never really saw her vulnerability.

Until now.

He needed to convince her; to let her know people like Marcus Woll and Kim Brody were unimportant to them.

That whatever happened, he was devoted to her.

"I hope today showed you that my feelings for you have been unwavering," he simply stated.

There was a warm current that ran underneath his words. His gaze took in every detail of her loveliness.

Connie's nerves tingled responsively.

The beauty of the cab ride and the enchanting park fell to the background.

They looked longingly at one another.

Mike leaned slightly forward in the hansom cab.

He touched her cheek with exquisite gentleness.

Connie sat forward, watching and wanting Mike.

She couldn't stop the wild ascent of her heartbeat as he moved closer to her.

He angled his head slightly and brought his lips to hers.

Their lips touched.

That was all that had been intended, for they were in public view.

Just a tender gesture of affection.

It was meant to be intimate, but not impassioned.

But as he tasted the warm sweetness of her mouth, he lingered.

A little longer than he should have.

The nearness of her was so enticing.

They reluctantly pulled apart slightly, still gazing in each other's eyes as the carriage proceeded on its way.

With a heavy heart, they left this area to go back to the hotel.

They were almost to the hotel now. Connie leaned over again and this time she took Mike's hand.

"Mike… thank you…" there was a slight catch in Connie's voice, so moved by the romantic carriage ride, "You've turned revealing the lowest part of my life into the most wonderful day in my life. And it will be etched in my memory forever."

Mike's expression showed he was touched by her admission.

"Your dilemma doesn't change anything, you know, " he admitted, "I will still be courting you, nevertheless."

His gaze once more swept over her lovely face and he was relieved when she nodded in acceptance.

"And for that, sir, I am forever grateful," Connie responded in a gentle, teasing manner.

The driver pulled up to the curb of the hotel.

On the curb stood Kim Brody, looking extremely impatient.

Kim Brody.

Connie groaned to herself.

Back to the real world.

Kim Brody looked so impatient that Connie expected her to fold her arms and tap her foot any minute now.

Kim Brody appeared surprised as the carriage pulled up to the curb with Mike and Connie comfortably seated inside.

"What. The. Hell…"she said as she took a long look from one end of the carriage to the other.

Obviously she didn't get the romanticism of it.

But Connie didn't care.

Connie had just floated gracefully in a regal carriage in the middle of New York City.

And she was still floating with happiness.

Kim Brody continued staring at the carriage, wondering why they were utilizing such a slow mode of transportation.

No wonder they were late. Truly amateurs, Kim Brody thought once more again.

She went from looking at Mike, to glaring at Connie, "I hope whatever this is… is now over with. My source confirmed Bulldog is right now at his favorite hangout. Time you two meet up with him and his cronies again. Get out. Let's go."

.

.

_Won't you please review?_

_Don't worry, some more romance to come a little later!_

_But let's see some action…_


	14. Chapter 14

Mike and Connie encounter the bounty hunters, this time with different results.

Chapter 14

The Fat Cat Pool Hall was located in the West Village on 7th Street. It was the typical grungy neighborhood pool hall that catered to a beer-drinking crowd.

The dimmed pool hall mainly consisted of a large bar area with a few tables surrounding it. Different bottles of liquor lined one wall behind the bar.

A few patrons listened to the blare of the sports announcer from a TV set, situated above the long counter.

In the back could be seen two pool tables, with the triple pool lights hanging above. Rough, husky men surrounded the table, their bottles balanced precariously on the edge of the pool tables.

Sounds of pool balls banging each other or banking on the sides, along with groans of disappointment or shouts of victory, could be heard.

Mike, Connie and Kim Brody entered.

Instantly wolf whistles could be heard from the uncouth pool players at the sight of Connie and Kim Brody.

Kim Brody would have none of this silliness.

"Where's Bulldog?" Kim Brody almost yelling to the crowd, ignoring the catcalls.

Bulldog, aka Ponytail man, stepped out from among the pool players, holding a pool stick. .

"Well, if it isn't my favorite FBI agent," he said as he scraped a chalk cube against the tip of his stick, "to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Knock off the pleasantries…we are on official business here…we want to talk to Don Lang." Kim Brody said curtly but decisively.

"Oh…so these two," Bulldog pointed to Mike and Connie, "are FBI? Is that what you're saying?"

Number two man, the one that had punched Mike earlier, stepped up, "Naw, can't be. Remember, Bulldog? He's that pansy dude that choked all over the place."

Mike tried his best not to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, they're part of my team, what of it?" Kim Brody roughly said.

Number two man faked a laugh and looked at Bulldog.

"You hear that, Bulldog?" he said, "those two high class city pansies over there couldn't fight themselves out of a paper bag."

Kim Brody was losing patience.

She needed to show these guys who is in charge.

"You better up your expectations when it comes to the FBI! I'll pit my guy," Kim Brody challenged pointing to Mike, "against _any_ of your men. _Any_."  
Connie was shocked. Did Kim Brody just offer Mike up for a fight? She looked at Mike.

He showed no expression.

Number two man took a couple of steps forward, "That so?"

As Kim Brody nodded, he looked over at Mike and snickered out loud.

Mike still had no reaction.

Connie watched in fear.

Number two man had a good 70 pounds over Mike.

"Let's make a bet, _Adrian_," Kim Brody said sarcastically referring to Bulldog's real name, "My guy against yours. If we win, you take us to Don Lang. If you win, drinks for all in the bar."

The crowd urged this bet on.

Bulldog nodded, "Fine with me. This joint could use a little action here. And you know…to be accepted here… you have to prove yourself."

Everyone turned to Mike.

He nodded in acknowledgement, to Connie's dismay. Did Mike even know how to fight?

The bet was sealed. Shouting could be heard throughout the pool hall. Some were cheers, others were bets.

Extra room had been made as two small round tables were moved. Mike and Number two man squared off in the space between the pool tables and bar.

A small circle of Bulldog's friends crowded around the two challengers.

The match up would be the burly bounty hunter against the lean state prosecutor.

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" yelled the crowd.

"QUIET!" yelled Bulldog, as he held his hand out, to the incessantly noisy crowd, "I need to set the ground rules…"

Mike had turned to listen.

That was when Number two man made his move.

Number two man decided on a sneak attack.

To get the advantage he was going to throw an early, unexpected punch.

But using his peripheral vision, Mike had seen Number two man launch the fist at the last second. He ducked just in time to take away the brunt of the blow.

Mike couldn't avoid the punch entirely, but rather he was jarred by the punch.

Number two man had meant to hit Mike right in the middle of his face.

The fist managed to skim across the top of Mike's head, landing at the top of his skull.

There was pain, but Number two man's knuckles probably felt worst.

After all, the large bone of a skull is stronger than the small muscles in the fingers. A fist could only do real harm when used to hit the nose or jaw.

The power behind the hit did, however, send Mike down on one knee. He grabbed Number two man's extended arm to stop further damage. Mike curled the upper fingers of his free hand, ready to punch the other guy with a palm strike.

Mike knew most people hit with a closed fist because that is what they see in the movies. Wrong. Mike was going to use the solid bottom part of his palm. Not a fist.

Using a fist meant a possibility of breaking a hand.

Mike knew using a palm strike, especially to a vulnerable area, was the most effective.

Using the strong portion of his palm would enable him to apply the greatest force towards his opponent, since there is a direct connection between the bottom of the palm and the large muscles of his arm.

It would also allow him to use his entire weight, a necessity against the much bigger fighter.

That is what Mike did.

Number two man assumed Mike's first move would be to strike his groin area, which is where an amateur person would first strike. Number two man automatically started to lift his knee to protect himself.

Mike knew that too, so he struck a more unexpected, vulnerable area—the diaphragm, the main muscle for breathing, located in the lower abdomen.

The one strike was swift and effective.

There was a gurgling sound.

The air burst out of the big man.

Number two man had the wind severely taken out of him. He could no longer breathe smoothly. Even the crowd groaned at Number two man's agonized heaving. Mike then grabbed Number two man's arm and twisted it behind him.

The man was gagging for air and in pain.

"**Do you need your heart medicine now, you little pansy?"** asked Mike in controlled anger.

Connie could only stare in awe. The fighting was awkward, and unprofessional, but Mike used finesse to defeat his opponent, much like in court. The crowd was silent now.

Mike pushed Number two man into his crowd of friends.

Connie looked at him in admiration. She noticed Kim Brody had the same expression on her face.

Bulldog was nodding his head in acknowledgement, signaling the end of the match to the crowd.

But as Kim Brody stepped forward to get the information from him, he held up his hand.

"When I said you had to prove yourself here," he looked at Kim Brody, then Connie, "I meant all of you."

He meant to see what the women could do.

"Hey wait—" Mike stepped forward, but he was being held by three men.

Kim Brody and Connie both knew they also had to prove themselves in this rowdy crowd of men.

Kim Brody was ready. She prepared herself for a roundhouse kick to the guy standing next to her. She had practiced this type of fight move all the time with her FBI training.

Kim Brody brought up her right hip so that it rotated up and over the bottom hip. She then extended her right kicking foot in a horizontal arc towards the closest of Bulldog's men standing next to her, making sure her standing foot was facing away from the target, giving her a stable base.

The impact of her right leg was made sideways, hitting the guy full on with her shin bone, a stronger hitting force than using the foot. The bones of the shin would be harder to break than the many small bones in a foot.

The unsuspecting guy was struck hard on the side of his head.

It took just one swift kick for the poor guy to go down.

All eyes were on Connie as she stood near the pool table. Connie nervously took a quick glance left, then right, before grabbing a pool stick from the many hanging on the wall.

This pleased the crowd. Connie's defeat should be interesting to watch, they thought.

Many of the men in the crowd volunteered to "take her down".

A worried Mike seemed to relax slightly, however, when he saw Connie with wood in her hand. It didn't necessarily mean she would be victorious, but at least she had a fighting chance.

I can do this, Connie thought while nervously glancing at the men, looking like vultures ready to pounce on their prey. At least she had enough experience with wood. But she had to make it look good.

For her, it meant putting on a good show.

Connie started swinging the stick in an "x" pattern. She maneuvered the stick from her elbow and shoulder, instead of just her wrist, making it look more forceful.

That only brought out more snickering from the fight-motivated crowd.

They knew she was inexperienced.

And they loved it.

The pool stick felt a little slippery from her sweat. She hoped she didn't drop it. Just keep the stick moving, she thought. She gripped it tighter.

Her arms were getting tired.

The crowd was getting restless with her air stick moves.

They were jeering now.

They wanted some real action.

The burly guy standing next to her decided it was time to end the stick show. He casually walked up to her, expecting to just grab the stick from her inexperienced hands.

Connie was ready for him.

She was still making the "x" formation, using the quick swinging as momentum to help her strike. The random guy expected her to deliver a hit to his upper body, so he moved slightly sideways in anticipation of grabbing the stick away from her.

But Connie expected that.

She pretended she was going to deliver a forehand strike near his collarbone, so as he reached up and out, he grabbed air.

Instead she brought the stick low, so to be out of his reach. She struck him using all her weight, squarely on the kneecaps.

The crush of cracked bones could be heard from even across the room. She wisely hit the same area again. He went down, agonizing in pain from both hits.

The men in the crowd automatically covered their knees, as if they, too, had been struck. A huge groan could be heard.

The three men let Mike go. Mike positioned his shoulders forward in order to straighten his shirt. Kim Brody placed her hands down from the fighting stance. Connie replaced the pool stick back on the wall.

The three had proven themselves.

Bulldog treated Mike, Connie and Kim Brody to a round of beer.

Tomorrow, the three of them would be one step closer to finding Jack.

.

_Please review_


	15. Chapter 15

Mike and Connie spend a little time alone, at last.

Chapter 15

They were back at the Manhattan Bridge Hotel.

Bulldog told them he knew for a fact that Jack was alive. And fine.

As a hired bounty hunter, he had been sworn not to divulge the whereabouts of Don Lang ,his client, but they would not need to talk with him.

He would give them the name of the contact. The liaison. The person both parties used to contact one another.

Gloria "Mama" Fatone was the matriarch of the Fatone clan. Don Lang was the son-in-law of her only daughter.

Both parties (Don Lang and the Fatone boys) respected and cherished Mama Fatone. So much so, that they never used her to get additional information about the other party.

Not that Mama Fatone would ever expose the other side, for she loved them both.

Communicating with her would give Mike, Connie and Kim Brody access to Jack, if they could convince her to tell them where the Fatone boys were holding Jack. Of course, that would be a big "if" since it would basically mean betraying her own sons.

Bulldog added that Mama Fatone was a very traditional, old-fashioned style matriarch. She would not be receptive to seeing them so late in the day. Therefore Kim Brody decided they would do it early tomorrow.

They had one more full day after today to find Jack.

Kim volunteered to go get pizza because she also needed to stop by the bank. She would be gone for about an hour. They would have an early dinner.

While waiting for Kim Brody to come back with the pizza Connie decided to take a shower.

By the time she came out, Kim Brody had already left.

She found Mike sitting on the hotel's window ledge.

The hotel had one of those old style window structures that included a fire escape extending out past the window ledge. The boxed railings of the fire escape had been connected to each bedroom window of the hotel. The platform and stairs were opened steel gratings. Diagonal stairs reached down to the ground.

He was straddled on the wide ledge, his back leaning on the frame with one knee bent and the other leg sticking out onto the fire escape.

As he leaned back on the window frame, he stared out.

Again, as she had so many times previously, Connie watched him. His mind seemed to drift languidly as he took in the view outside.

Sensing her, he turned his head.

He lifted an arm towards her.

"Come sit next to the fire escape with me," he said playfully, "then I can continue my wooing for your affections."

Connie smiled, went over, and sat in-between his legs, her upper back resting on his chest. She rested one of her arms on his bent knee.

He placed both his arms around her, hugging him to her. She settled back and with her other hand, she held to his arms.

They were locked in happiness.

Ignoring the rusty fire escape, the view outside was picturesque.

Their window fortunately faced out to Central Park.

The late afternoon would soon turn into twilight.

The park, replete with greenery, reminded Connie of the special time with Mike earlier this afternoon. Of the carriage ride. Of daisies. Of cheerful crowds. Of being courted by him. Enchantment.

From the distance in the park, she saw the tower of Belvedere Castle.

Located near the center of Central Park, Belvedere Castle was a smaller park- version of a Victorian-style manor, overlooking a pond with a landscape garden. The ancient stoned castle looked fit for royalty in the Middle Ages.

Connie felt so comfortable in Mike's arms, as she viewed the turn of the century castle.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Mike. Everytime he spoke, Connie could feel the soft heaving of his chest on her back.

"How much I love hearing your stories. Please regale me with another story, this time regarding that castle over there," Connie stated lightly, pointing out towards Central Park to the tiny medieval castle, "and please include a Princess and the FBI in your tale."

"A Princess _and_ the FBI? A challenge, I see," she heard Mike's voice.

There was a pause, and a slight shifting of his body, although he never let go of her. Then finally, "I accept this challenge."

Connie settled back as he began his tale.

"_In the land of Fables, there once lived this beautiful Princess. She was the complete package_."

Connie smiled amusingly, knowing it was in reference to her from a previous case of theirs.

"_So one day_," Mike continued, "_the King placed her in the one and only tall tower at Belvedere Castle. He decreed that with her beauty, no one should be able to see her but her one true love. _A_lthough many knights and noblemen from all around sought her hand, no one was able to climb the many steps of the tower to see her. Thus no one could witness her beauty except a lowly servant who brought a meal to her once a day."_

"A meal once a day?" jest Connie, "She must have been terribly skinny."

"Her **beau-ty** overshadowed her boney-ness, alright?" Mike pretended to be frustrated.

"_Anyway…everyday this lowly servant would knock on the tower door and the beautiful Princess would open the door and gratefully accept the meal. They never spoke to each other, but each day they became more enamored of one another. He, of her beauty, she of his humbleness."_

"Sounds rather shallow, if you ask me" Connie said, trying to hide her grin.

"Don't forget that this is just a fable. If you wanted _Romeo and Juliet_, go to the library," Mike responded dryly.

She tried not to laugh.

"_So_…" he continued, " _This bringing of a meal occurred for three days. On the fourth day, he did not appear, although her meal was still being brought up to her. The_ _Princess realized she missed the lowly servant immensely. Meanwhile, outside Fable-land, other dark forces were forming…for in another part of the country, an FBI dragon arrived to attack the kingdom. No one in the royal court was brave enough to face the FBI dragon."_

"Really?" asked Connie teasingly, "an FBI _dragon_?"

"Yes! _…_an FBI _dragon_… dragons can be _so_ very secretive…" insisted Mike, "Where was I? Oh… _so the lowly servant bravely volunteered to face the dragon." _

"'_WHO DARES TO FACE ME?' the intimidating FBI dragon demanded to know. _

'_It is simply me,' said the humble servant._

'_HOW WILL A PANSY LIKE YOU DEFEAT ME?' the FBI dragon angrily questioned._

"_With __**love**__," the lowly servant simply replied; for the lowly servant possessed a baseball bat affectionately nicknamed __**LOVE.**_"

It was getting harder for Connie to contain her laughter.

"…_And with that bat_," ended Mike, "_the poor servant bravely whacked the FBI agent—I mean, the FBI __**dragon.**__ The King could see this was true love. The lowly servant suddenly transformed into a Prince, dressed in a three- piece suit, complete with a briefcase to accessorize with his bat. Then he and the beautifully boney Princess lived happily ever after."_

Silence.

"That is the _**worst**_ fairy tale I have ever heard," laughed Connie openly.

Although she had been so comfortable in his arms, she sat up and turned to face him to get his response.

They had been previously seated, both facing out, but now Connie maneuvered her body so that she full faced him.

She had been laughing.

But he was quiet.

Instead of an expected clever comeback, he merely gazed at her.

He was thinking that when she was happy, she never looked more lovely.

Her smile disappeared as she returned his stare.

She lifted a trembling hand to touch his cheek.

"Mike." The tone of her voice sounded like a soft ache.

He lifted his hand and placed it over the hand she had placed on his cheek. He brought it down.

Their attraction was strong.

He leaned forward to kiss her.

.

_Please review_


	16. Chapter 16

The three lives intersect once again.

Chapter 16

The hotel window with the rusty fire escape provided a romantic interlude for Mike and Connie.

Her heart yearned for him.

Thoughts of sweet, endless kisses that sent Connie's world off balanced entered her mind.

She did not hesitate as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Connie felt her body grow warm all the way to her toes. He wasn't holding her anywhere, but she couldn't have pulled away. His lips were warm and gentle against hers.

As his kiss deepened, she could feel the hunger in his kiss. He tasted of excitement, spiced with promised pleasure.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands moved slowly up and down her back. The touch of his hands made her melt more into his body. She sighed, loving the feelings dancing throughout her body.

He kissed her while his touch gently moved over her as if he needed to memorize the feel of her.

His mouth covered hers fully. She felt a wave of delight at tasting him. Her body responded to his touch.

They were brought back to reality when somewhere in the distant background they could hear the sound of a key being inserted in the lock.

Mike and Connie quickly separated and tried to still their breathing.

"Pizza's here," Kim Brody's voice was heard before she entered the room, "I thought that—oh."

Although she had not witnessed the embrace, she saw they were both in close proximity at the fire escape window.

"Getting some fresh air, I suppose," she commented dryly, as she inattentively flung the pizza on the table.

She looked from Mike to Connie, as Mike cleared his throat.

"We were just admiring the view," he explained.

"I _bet_ you were." Kim Brody's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

They ate the pizza at the small round table in silence, for the most part.

Kim Brody was watching Mike. Those two were too close, she analyzed. Her well thought out plans were falling apart. She needed time alone with Mike. That's what she needed. Just time alone. Then she could work her magic.

"I've made a decision." Kim Brody announced taking another slice, "Tomorrow only Mike and I will be visiting Mama Fatone."

"What? Why?" asked a surprised Connie.

"Why are one or both of you always questioning my decisions?" Kim Brody asked a demanding question.

"Look, we are a team," pointed out Mike, "You said we were in it together."

"Two can do the job as easily as three," reasoned Kim Brody, "Bulldog gave _me_ the address for Mama Fatone. It's in _my_ possession. I can certainly go alone, if that is your choice. Do you want to find Jack or not?"

So the decision was made.

But not unanimously.

Later that night Mike was in the shower as Connie read her novel and Kim Brody watched TV.

Kim Brody observed Connie out of the corner of her eye. There was a certain attractiveness to the lawyer, Kim supposed, and Rubirosa was definitely intelligent…but she was such a _lightweight_. Connie Rubirosa would probably fold at the drop of a hat. She certainly wasn't agent material. Unlike Mike.

Kim wondered as to the real relationship between her and Mike. Not that it really mattered, for Kim never had any competition. She was always the best at everything she did. _And_ she always got everything she wanted. She just hadn't realized Mike would be such a challenge.

But surely Mike was impressed with everything she could offer him.

Even though Connie was reading, she sensed Kim Brody was staring at her.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" Connie had looked up from her novel.

"What do you mean?" asked Kim Brody, sounding bored again.

"You're looking at me strangely," Connie noted, "if you want to say something to me, just say it."

Kim Brody was losing her touch. She was getting to be too easy to read. Not that she cared what Rubirosa thought.

"If you must know," Kim Brody said plainly, "I was wondering what Mike thought about me."

"That, I could not really answer," Connie stated, "But I will say this; he knows the difference between what's real and what's a con."

"You have a short memory," Kim retaliated, "I've fooled him before."

Silence.

Kim Brody tilted her head.

"You don't like me much, do you?" Kim Brody asked, as she confidently flipped her hair over she shoulder.

Connie put down her book.

"I find it hard to bond with cold, manipulative women," Connie answered, "so I would truthfully answer 'yes' to your question."

"You just don't like competition," Kim Brody coldly replied.

"What competition are you referring to?" Connie challenged, in a slightly louder voice.

The bathroom door opened. Mike emerged newly refreshed, wiping his wet hair with a towel. He felt so clean and relaxed. In addition, Connie was with him. He also liked the idea that they were moving forward and by tomorrow they should be able to find Jack. Everything was going his way.

Both women turned to look at him at the same time, impassive expressions on both their faces.

The mood in the room had changed since he had left it earlier, and that was only 20 minutes ago.

"_What_?" he asked, his whole body stiffening, "What did _I_ do?"

.

It was almost midnight by the time the three of them were in bed.

Again Connie and Kim Brody shared a bed. Mike was still in the cot, but when Kim Brody had gone to brush her teeth, he had moved the cot slightly closer to Connie.

Connie was alone with her thoughts in the dark. She hated that Mike would be alone with Kim Brody tomorrow.

Although Mike was "courting" Connie, he was not blind. He could see that Kim Brody possessed that Grace Kelly kind of attractiveness. Not only that, she was a competent agent, well versed in guns and fighting. Many men would love those qualities in a woman.

And like Marcus Woll, Kim Brody knew the right words to say to manipulate people.

Connie looked over at Mike's silhouette. He obviously wasn't asleep as he was reading his Blackberry. The lit screen of the Blackberry could easily be seen in the darkness.

"Mike. ..You're not working on a case, are you?" Connie whispered.

"Why do you always assume I am working?" he asked in a low voice as he handed over his Blackberry to her, "just because I am always working?"

Connie accepted his Blackberry and looked at the screen.

He was playing Scrabble.

For the next 15 minutes, they passed the Blackberry back and forth, competing in Scrabble. They didn't want to disturb Kim Brody in her sleep again.

"Oh…this is a great word…" Connie quietly announced, as she typed it in, " okay... I believe I am in the lead now!"

"Let me see that!" Mike whispered with uncertainty, as he held out his hand.

She handed the Blackberry over to Mike.

There was a pause.

Connie could picture Mike scowling in the darkness, wondering what word she typed in.

He showed the screen of the Blackberry to Connie.

"What…is…this…word?" he strongly whispered, "_and_ I want to see you use it in a sentence." He handed the Blackberry back to her in case she made a mistake with the spelling.

"Oh, so you need your vocabulary expanded? Alright." Connie explained in a quiet tone, "The word is 'urggh'. The sentence is: _Mike made a sound of 'urggh' when the bounty hunter punched him in the stomach."_

"Oh, you are such a _cheat_!" accused Mike, keeping his tone low.

"I call it being _clever_!" Connie whispered back, "Let me see how you would use two 'gs' in a word!"

"Well I'll just have to see if I have a 'w' here", challenged Mike, "Then I can spell the word 'thwack', as in_: The sound of 'thwack' could be heard when wood met bone, via Connie Rubirosa."_

"Now who's the cheat?" Connie insistently whispered.

"Do you notice that only losers say that?" Mike countered in a low tone.

"**Stop it, just stop it**!"

Kim Brody shot up and grabbed the Blackberry from Connie and tossed it on her side of the nightstand, "**Just shut up and sleep! You two are acting like this is sleep-away camp**!"

Kim Brody punched her pillow and flopped back on the bed with her back to Mike and Connie.

It was getting very late.

The place was pitched in darkness.

Silence enveloped the room.

"Urggh."

"Thwack." was Mike's reply.

.

_(The remaining chapters will be serious, for we are coming close to the end)_

_And, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Jack!_

_Please review!_


	17. Chapter 17

Mike and Kim Brody find the location of Jack.

Chapter 17

**The Next Day**

If Kim Brody had not been an FBI agent, she would have made an excellent con artist.

She had this way of analyzing a person and then molding her personality to fit that person's expectations.

Right now she could see that Mike was not interested in a tough, competent FBI agent.

He wanted someone soft and sweet. She could play that role, too.

It was early morning and they were in a coffee shop, discussing plans on how to proceed with Mama Fatone. They had ordered a Danish roll and coffee.

She was going to play the sweet seductress. She had played that role many times before. This time she would play it out in front of Mike.

"Listen, Mike," said Kim Brody, looking across the table, "I just have to apologize for sounding so tough sometimes. That's not really me."

She managed to make her sky blue eyes glisten with sincerity.

"No need to apologize. We've all been under a little pressure," Mike responded.

"When this is all over," said Kim Brody, trying to sound winsome, "I was thinking…maybe you would consider joining the FBI. You know…I am in need of a partner…"

Kim gave him a shy, attractive smile.

Mike took a sip of his coffee. He tried not to choke on the liquid.

He clearly remembered the Kim Brody in the Quit Claim case. After all, he had lost that case. And he never forgot his losses. During that time, Kim Brody had made up a whole battery of lies, changing the lie to fit each circumstance. He would not be taken in again.

He could read right through her.

"That is quite flattering," Mike admitted, "but I actually enjoy being a New York Prosecutor."

"Oh, Mike!" Kim Brody showing him pouty lips, "… we would make _such_ a great team. And you know…"

She reached over the table and placed her hand over Mike's hand.

"…we would be working in close quarters…_very_ close quarters," she cooed.

Kim Brody's boldness should not have surprised Mike, but her touch did. He knew she was interested in him, but Mike felt the attraction was for the wrong reasons. He felt that once this case ended, she probably wouldn't even remember his name.

"Are you making a pass at me?" Mike needed to make sure he was reading the signal right.

Kim Brody intimately rubbed the top part of his hand.

He read the signal loud and clear.

She looked at him coyly.

"You _do_ find me attractive, don't you?" She was like a sex kitten.

Mike breathed out slowly.

"Yes, you are very attractive," admitted Mike, "for someone else. Not me."

Kim Brody removed her hand.

She shrugged her shoulders. She finally got the message. No big deal. Luckily for her, she had enough confidence that situations like this did not faze her. After all, she had everything going for her. She would just move on to the next mark. There were plenty of other men that would do anything just to breathe the same air as her. Mike Cutter would be sorry one day, she convinced herself. He was a fool to turn her down, but that was his problem.

The warm atmosphere of the coffee shop suddenly turned cool.

"I see." She curtly said, all sweetness gone from her voice, "It's time we visit Mama Fatone. I'm ready. Let's go."

.

Mama Fatone lived in Brooklyn, on the western tip of Long Island. Known for its ethnic diversity, Brooklyn was located directly across from the East River and was considered a working class neighborhood. She lived in an older part of the town where all the homes were Brownstone rowhouses.

Mama Fatone welcomed Mike and Kim Brody into her old world styled home, complete with family pictures exhibited throughout, along with worn fabric furniture at least 30 years old.

She was a full -bodied, talkative Italian mother. She fretted over Mike and Kim Brody, offering them both food and drinks, insisting both of them were too thin and needed more nourishment.

"But the two of you, much beautiful, no?" she said as she looked at both of them when they had taken a seat across from her.

"Mrs. Fatone-" began Kim Brody who wanted to get right down to business.

"Pleasa, call me Mama Fatone—everybody they call me Mama Fatone. You do the same, _va bene?_"

"Thank you, "said Mike, "and may I say, you have a most lovely home."

"_Grazie tanto_… My boys give me much," reveled Mama Fatone, "they take so good care of Mama. I have good life."

"Please Mama Fatone," Kim Brody was getting impatient, "we need you to tell us some very important information."

_Kim Brody then took over and explained the need to locate Jack McCoy. She explained that the FBI was now aware that Mama Fatone was the go-between, acting as communicator for both Don Lang and the Fatone boys. _

And that the FBI knew Mama Fatone's boys were holding Jack at a secret location.

"My boys, they good boys, I tell you," she said, constantly gesturing with her hands, "they provide good for their mother. I have beautiful house, clothes, things. I need, I ask."

Kim Brody let out an exasperated breath. Mama Fatone was not giving her the information she needed. They were going around in circles. She started to open her mouth again before Mike put his hand lightly on her arm and intercepted the conversation.

"Jack McCoy is my boss," explained Mike, "and a true friend. He has heart and a love of life. And he is in trouble. Please Mama Fatone. Help us find him."

He looked at her with complete sincerity.

Mama Fatone scowled, looking very confused.

"But my boys, they will come to trouble, no?"

She looked at Mike for reassurance.

"Surely you know they are bad." Kim Brody pointed out.

Mama Fatone leaned back, waving her front palms back and forth.

"No! No!" she insisted, "They work much hard! Sometime the world not easy,no? They must sometime _take_."

She emphasized the point by grabbing empty air.

"Of course they are not bad," Mike softly reassured her, "but they have done some bad things."

Mike turned to Kim Brody. He leaned in and whispered to her that he wanted to talk to Mama Fatone alone. At first Kim Brody balked, but she could see she was not getting through. She told the two she would wait in the car.

Kim Brody had left.

"Mama Fatone, I understand that they are family, but Jack McCoy is part of _my_ family," Mike said with conviction, "He is family that did not do a thing to your boys. How is that right that they take away _my_ family, that they may harm _my_ family?"

Mama Fatone's determination was wavering.

Mike put his hand comfortingly on Mama Fatone's work weathered hand.

"I'm sad to say your boys did do some things against the law. I know this because I am a lawyer," Mike tried to be as gentle as he could, "They are grown men. They know the difference between right and wrong. If they did wrong, they must be held accountable. Just like when they were young, you punished them when they did wrong, am I not correct?"

"Si, si…I mean… yes… yes, I do that." nodded Mama Fatone. As she contemplated what to do, tears surfaced. The boys were almost all she had left.

Mike sensed he was convincing her.

"You punished them because you wanted to help them know what is right," Mike continued, keeping his voice gentle, "now, you must do it again. You know in your heart what you must do."

He could see Mama Fatone deliberating in her head.

At last she nodded, much to Mike's relief.

"I tell you where they are," her eyes glistening, "but no hurt them, _bene_?"

"If they come peacefully, you have my word," he said, "but you must know there are no guarantees in life."

Mama Fatone nodded as if she understood.

"Perhaps it is time," Mama Fatone sounded suddenly tired, "All these…these things that is happen, they must stop."

Mike knew to keep quiet.

"You have good heart, _benevolenza_" she said as placed both of her hands over her heart, "Mama Fatone know this. I like you much."

"Thank you, Mama Fatone," said Mike with a slight smile.

"So I tell you this. That other one, "Mama Fatone pointed outside towards Kim Brody, "She have cold heart. You believe me, no?"

"I-I really couldn't say, Mama Fatone."

"Beautiful, beautiful girl. Many men, they say they like her, but she... she love but herself, you see what I say?"

Mike nodded.

"Don't you share heart with her. Maybe you have someone else?" Mama Fatone asked hopefully, "someone with warm heart? If not, I introduce you to my niece, Maria," she smacked her lips, "a most lovely girl, you will see!"

Mike blushed, "Thank you, Mama Fatone, but I have someone special."

"Ah…Good. Good. You love her, yes?"

She looked towards him expectantly.

Mike didn't hesitate.

"I love her very much, Mama Fatone."

"She know this? This beautiful girl of yours?"

"No," he regretfully said, "No, I haven't told her. Yet. But I will."

"Ah, that is most good, _molto buona_." Mama Fatone patted his hand warmly in acknowledgement.

Mike was amazed that he told someone he loved Connie.

He had never spoken the words out loud.

But Mike knew every word was true.

.

Mike got in the driver's seat of the car with Kim Brody. He handed her a scribbled piece of paper.

The address of where Jack was being held.

The air was filled with quiet tension.

They quickly drove back to the hotel to pick up Connie.

It was suddenly important to Mike that he tell Connie his feelings before they went to get Jack.

He could not wait to tell her. To be with her again.

Mike reached the hotel door first. He burst in, looking around for Connie.

The room looked like it had been trashed. The main table had been pushed against a wall. The items that had been on the table were strewn on the floor. A chair had been overturned. A lampshade had fallen. The bed sheets were rumpled, as if someone had been thrown on it. Perhaps in a struggle.

Fear gripped Mike.

Where was Connie?

She was nowhere in sight as he walked around the hotel room. His foot kicked against something, and that something began rolling away from him.

He bent down and picked up the object.

Connie's police baton bat.

A tight, choking sensation filled Mike's throat as dread spread throughout his body.

The Fatones not only had Jack, they had Connie as well.

.

.

_Please review_


	18. Chapter 18

Bravery all around.

Chapter 18

Connie had put up a struggle back at the hotel, but the bleached blonde man simply overpowered her.

He was driving in Jack's car with Connie in the passenger seat. She had been put in handcuffs. He was taking her to some unknown location. She hoped Jack would be there.

Bleached blonde guy drove in silence.

As he slightly moved to make a turn with the car, Connie noted a gun in a holster, slung over his shoulder, under his cheap jacket. She wondered if she could somehow get a hold of that gun.

Would there ever be a good time to take it? Would the gun slide smoothly out holster? Is a gun easy to fire?

Maybe she could distract him.

"Who are you?" she asked, daring to look at him.

The bleached blonde guy remained stoned faced.

"Hey! I am talking to you! Who are you?" repeated Connie, a little louder, in case he didn't hear, "What do you want with me? Where are you taking me?"

She received no reaction or reply from him as he drove on.

They came to a red light.

He rested his hand on her knee. She tried to slide it off.

He had no expression as he uttered one word.

"Don't…" he simply said.

He persisted in keeping his hand on her knee.

"**_Get your hands off of me_**!" Connie forcibly attempted to push his hand off her knee.

His hand slid down her leg.

An alarm went off in her head.

His hand was feeling for a certain spot.

Then suddenly without warning, his fingers dug down deep like steel claws. Pain exploded in her leg. He had pinched a sensitive soft spot beneath her kneecap, somewhere between her kneecap and shinbone. Excruciating pain.

Connie buckled. Tears surfaced.

She tried to keep her mind straight, as her leg muscle throbbed. She tried again to push his hand off, but his grip would not give.

The clawed hand remained.

"Don't talk," he uttered.

He was a man of few words.

"Keep quiet or I will rip your effing kneecap right off."

He said it in a nonchalant manner, as if he was just saying have a nice day.

No emotion.

The signal light turned green.

Bleached blonde guy's car proceeded to destination unknown.

Connie was quiet.

.

.

The bleached blonde man held on to her arm and dragged her to some kind of dirty basement in some ratty house in a crummy part of some neighborhood. Connie stumbled as she walked, due to her hurt leg. Being yanked forcibly by another person only made her limp more obvious.

When they got down to the basement, he shoved Connie down, near the radiator.

She was thrown on the cold, hard floor, her leg still pounding in agony.

But Connie was not even aware of how painful her leg felt or how cruelly he had manhandled her.

For she was staring at something next to the radiator.

Or actually, staring at _someone_ next to the radiator.

Jack McCoy sat on the floor of the discolored basement, his hands handcuffed to the radiator.

At first his head had been positioned down, but he managed to look up at the ruckus the man and Connie made. He wearily looked at Connie, showing a very concerned expression on his face.

The bleached blonde man left, leaving the two in the dim, grimy room.

"Jack!" Connie scooted herself over to him when the man had left. She placed one of her handcuffed hand worriedly on his cheek.

Jack slowly looked into her eyes, a haunted look in his face. His observant eyes looked dull. His face felt clammy. His lips were dried.

Yet he let a small smile show through.

"Connie," he said in a strained, rough voice. That word alone seemed to take a lot out of him. He somehow forced himself to sit up.

It was like he was trying to get a second wind.

But then his smile dissolved at the seriousness of the situation.

"Connie. What are you…How did you… Connie, did you know? … about Claire," Jack asked, throwing out a lot of questions all at once before making one clear statement, "Did you know… about Claire Kincaid?"

Connie removed her hand from Jack's cheek.

Her brown eyes looked sadly into Jack's.

So Jack knew Claire's death was not accidental.

"Yes, Jack," she said tenderly, "I know."

His expression saddened. He shook his head grievously.

"I never had the opportunity to tell her…I never did. I loved her, you know."

Connie felt tears forming. But she had to be brave.

For Jack.

"Jack," she began with empathy, "The words of love may have been left unspoken, but she knew. I'm sure she knew it."

He nodded.

Connie felt his sadness.

She wished to comfort him.

"Jack, I don't have any doubt that you were her last thought. She knew you loved her. Trust me. A woman knows these things."

He gathered strength in her words.

Then he took a deep breath and for a short moment in time became the Jack McCoy Connie knew.

"Wait until I get my hands on those goons," Jack told her in a tired but determined voice, "They will pay. I will _personally_ prosecute each and every one of them! **They'll all be sitting side by side in the electric chair like it's a damn ride on Coney Island!"**

Jack still had his fortitude about him.

Then he heaved out an exhausted sigh.

The series of words seemed to drain him of strength for a while.

But Connie knew Jack would not rest until justice was done.

Because of Claire.

"Are you alright?" Connie asked, concerned, "Did they hurt you?"

"Ribs hurt a little," Jack said as he moved with effort, "And you?"

"Knee cap for me," said Connie, rubbing her leg, "that guy sure knows a person's vulnerable body parts."

"That's why I privately refer to him as Pressure Point Pete!" Jack said.

It was nice Jack still had a sense of humor about him.

"Jack, we are going to get out of here. I'm sure Mike and Kim Brody are headed here even as we speak."

"Kim Brody…the Quit Claim con artist?" Jack asked.

"FBI agent…uh...long story," Connie said as she looked around to take stock of the situation.

The room truly was a dusty basement, and an empty, dusty basement at that. The room was devoid of any items of any kind. She had nothing she could use as a weapon.

"We have to first figure out how to get out of these handcuffs," Connie said as she stretched her handcuffs, as if that would release her from bondage.

The handcuffs felt heavy on her wrists.

She felt heavy about the situation.

Jack leaned back on the radiator, as if all this talking and listening were wearing him out.

"I... can do it," Jack said in a weak voice.

"Do what?" Connie asked, puzzled.

"Get us out of these damn handcuffs, "said Jack, closing his eyes to rest a little, "I just need your help."

His fatigued voice was almost a whisper.

He barely had enough energy to maintain sitting up, but his face showed a quiet look of determination as he took one deep breath to regain his strength.

Connie leaned forward to make sure she would be able to hear him.

If Jack said he could get them out of the handcuffs, Connie knew it could be done.

"Tell me what to do," she said.

.

.

_Please take the opportunity to review!_


	19. Chapter 19

At last, the rescue.

Chapter 19

Connie and Jack needed to get the handcuffs off. And fast.

Who knew when bleached blonde thug would be back?

Connie was already leaning over to listen carefully to Jack's instructions.

"Reach into the left pocket of my jacket," Jack said, as he took a deep breath, grimaced, and then breathed out again, "you'll find something to help get our handcuffs off."

"You have the key?" Connie questioned.

Although her hands were cuffed, she was still able to reach into Jack's pocket. She awkwardly felt around until her hand came across something small and solid, so she pulled it out.

It was not a key.

"What is this?" Connie said, handing it to Jack's right hand.

She recognized it when she handed it over to Jack.

It was the Robert F. Kennedy tie clip Mike had presented to Jack after their collaborative win in the auxilary cop case. Mike had prosecuted, with Jack brilliantly defending himself on the witness stand. After the auxiliary cop was convicted, Mike had given the RFK tie clip to Jack. The pin seemed to affirm Mike's respect for Jack.

Connie was surprised Jack kept the RFK tie clip close to him all this time. How sentimental.

So despite the dire situation, she slightly smiled to herself.

Jack and Mike. BFFs.

"This… tie clip… is as good as any handcuff key…quickly reach out your hands to me. **Do it now**…" Jack was short of breath after the long sentence, bringing Connie back to reality.

Connie awkwardly held out her handcuffed hands to his right hand, which was restrained on the old radiator. He only had a little leeway in which he could maneuver his hand.

"Hold steady!" he insisted.

Like always, he took charge of the situation.

Using his reserved strength, he wholeheartedly reached over and placed the tip of the tie clip in the keyhole of Connie's restraints.

Jack tinkered with Connie's handcuffs, attempting to move the pin back and forth.

He turned the pin one way and then the other, finally managing to unlock the rachet. There was a clicking sound, and one of the rigid cuffs became unhinged.

Step one a success.

Now on to the other side of the restraints.

"Wherever did you learn to unlock handcuffs?" Connie asked, watching his intense face.

"Three different situations… will explain that," said Jack, breathing slowly out as he fumbled around with the tie clip. "One; Father, a Chicago policeman…two; me, an inquisitive teenager …three; boring day with tweezers in said boy's hand…"

They heard some noise at the lock of the basement door, signaling that someone soon would be headed downstairs.

Connie looked up towards the sound coming from the closed door and then back at Jack.

"Hurry, Jack!" she desperately said.

"Don't rush me, dammit!" said Jack, his forehead beaded with sweat.

Still only one side of Connie's handcuffs was unlocked, as Jack continued to work on the second cuff.

Meanwhile, upstairs, the latch of the lock on the basement door was released and Connie looked up again as light spilled from the opened door.

Jack was now fiddling the pin the other way to release the double cuffs.

It was quite a feat, since Connie and Jack's hands were at awkward angles.

"I've almost got it…" he then stated decisively, "just move more to the left!"

Someone was trudging down the stairs.

"More, more! No! Too much…there!" Jack commanded.

Finally the unlatching of the metallic bonds of the handcuffs could be heard.

Step two a success.

The handcuffs fell off Connie's hands. She rubbed her wrists to get the circulation going.

She could see Jack awkwardly working on his own cuffs now. By the time the bleached blonde man had reached the bottom of the steps, Jack had succeeded in getting only one of his cuffs unlatched.

But bleached blonde man could see what had happened.

"**You'll be sorry,**" his voice was menacingly calm as he came towards Connie, his hand already formed into a spear.

Just watching the man's spear-like hand made Connie's leg throb once more.

Connie would not let him see the fear in her eyes. She turned back around and had her backside to him, trying to calm her breathing.

Bleached blonde man knew he had the upper hand. He knew how women fought. They would usually try to scratch his face, or hit him in the chest.

But the assault would be useless.

It would only tire them out, making their screams weaker.

He observed Connie.

This one could be easily subdued.

And he would take real pleasure in hurting her.

He had fast hands, but he would take his time.

And be extremely effective.

He wondered about her pain tolerance, how much she could take.

Not that it mattered.

A malicious grin appeared on his face.

He could already envision her whimpering sobs, begging for the torture to stop.

Never realizing that each sob she wept would mean another inflicted pain on her.

He hovered over her now, anxious to proceed.

Connie was quietly still.

Waiting.

Suddenly she unleashed.

Connie spun quickly around and with all her strength, flung one end of her handcuffs directly at the man's face as she held on to the other end. She knew from reading her spy novel where to hit for maximum effect. Like Alexandria Andrews, she zeroed in on the nose.

BING-POW

It sounded like a steel hammer hitting raw meat.

Bleached blonde man yelled out in pain as blood shot out of his nose. His screaming never stopped as his two hands reached out to cover his gash.

As he retreated in pain, Connie lashed another whip with her handcuffs, this time to his kidney, as a momento for Jack and then one more to his kneecap, in remembrance of her. As he doubled over in pain after being struck on the knee, Connie boldly reached for the gun in his holster.

Just as she envisioned. The gun actually _did _pull out smoothly from the holster.

However, she did not know how to fire a gun. Wasn't even sure how to properly hold one.

So she did the smart thing.

"Here!… Jack!" was all she needed to say as she placed the gun in Jack's freed hand.

Jack, the son of a police officer.

Jack, the one that will make them pay for Claire.

His strength was running on empty as he took hold of the gun.

"**Looks like I won't see Pressure Point Pete get the electric chair after all...** **Dammit**!" Jack bellowed, as he aimed the gun and solidly pulled the trigger.

The gun went off. The sound was like an explosion. Connie felt as though her ears had shattered.

Jack took another deep breath, held the gun steady, and pulled the trigger again.

Like in the movies, the man staggered. Blood sputtered everywhere.

Connie jumped as the gun noisily discharged once more and let out a short scream when the bloodied body fell.

Bleached blonde guy was dead before he hit the ground.

Glancing at the bloodied corpse, she felt nothing except a feeling of relief.

From upstairs, they heard other noises.

There was the sound of the outside door busting open from up above.

Next came the sound of many footsteps and loud shoutings.

A hail of gunshots could be heard, with a few gunshots being returned. But only a few.

Then some more yelling.

Connie could see the smoke, smell the gunpowder, even from down in the basement.

The gunshots ceased.

She heard footsteps descending the basement steps.

She closed her eyes and prayed it was the right people coming down.

"**Connie**!"

She heard Mike's voice above all the noise and confusion.

"**Connie! Jack**!"

Mike came flying down, yelling Connie and Jack's name.

Mike, oh Mike.

He had on a bulletproof vest and held a gun, but quickly put it away when he saw her and Jack.

Connie's heart leaped at the sight of him.

He ran to her first.

He took one look at her, and complete elation showed on his face.

Kim Brody followed behind, already beginning to secure the crime scene.

"Connie? Are you alright?" Mike held her by the shoulders and looked earnestly in her eyes, before turning to Jack.

He could see that Kim Brody was attending to Jack.

"I'm fine, Mike, but Jack is weak, " she said as she embraced his hug.

Mike turned his attention to Jack.

"Don't worry, Jack, the ambulance is on its way" Mike said in a comforting tone.

Jack acknowledged with a nod.

Mike looked back at Connie as if he never wanted to forget her face.

"Did they hurt you in any way?" He felt for broken bones.

"No…no," insisted Connie looking at him, and then at Kim Brody, "But was it just the two of you doing all that firing up there?"

"Of course not." admitted Kim Brody sounding as impatient as ever, as she evaluated Jack, glad that _she_ and the FBI found Jack alive.

"We were not alone—we had help," Mike explained.

"More... FBI agents?" Jack asked, looking around, as he took note of Kim Brody's bulletproof vest with the letters 'FBI' clearly embossed on it.

Mike shook his head with a smile, "No, this time, we brought the 'A' team."

As if on cue, Cyrus Lupo, Kevin Bernard and Anita Van Buren, all wearing their bulletproof vests, were next to come down the stairs.

The three greeted Connie and Jack heartedly.

Bernard handed Connie back her police baton with a wink.

There was much talking and hugging, as the law and order professionals congratulated each other on a job well done.

All in all, it was a happy ending

Jack was safe and sound.

Connie was swaddled in Mike's reassuring arms.

Kim Brody and the FBI could close the Fatone case at last.

Mission accomplished.

Mike also reached out and touched Jack's shoulder

"So very glad to see you safe, Jack," Mike acknowledged.

Jack nodded and gave Mike a fatherly smile.

"Glad you were able to get me out of this (de-BOCK-el) debacle," Jack said.

"…You mean out of this (DEB-I-kil) debacle," Mike corrected.

Still smiling, Jack reached out painstakingly and gratefully patted Mike.

Jack then took a deep breath. He was exhausted, but his ever- inquisitive mind needed to know what happened with the gunfight upstairs.

"I'm assuming... there's no one to prosecute... upstairs?" Jack asked, his voice sounding tired again.

Mike shook his head.

"**_Their sentences have already been handed out_,**" Mike concluded.

The sound of the ambulance could be heard in the distance.

Jack leaned back and closed his eyes in relief.

Claire Kincaid could now rest in peace.

.

.

_Well, I am done with the action part!_

_I was going to explain the aftermath of the raid, but I think no clarifications are really needed._

_._

_Also, I've always loved that Mike had given Jack an RFK tie clip (presumably purchased from ebay, no less!) at the end of the "Illegal" episode. It was a really cute scene in the show. I have wanted to incorporate it into one of my stories and found the opportunity here!_

_**Last chapter coming up**__ (sob! Why is it so hard for me to end it?)_

Now on to the end…

_Please review._


	20. Chapter 20

We all believe in romantic endings, don't we?

Chapter 20

It had truly been a memorable, exciting adventure.

Mike returned to the Manhattan Bridge Hotel to pick up any remaining items.

He stood in the room to take a last look around.

Faded sunlight spilled from the hotel window, spreading out throughout the room. The hotel room actually looked attractive in the dimming light. His eyes followed the dwindling sunlight out to the window.

It was early evening. Outside, the diffused light from the sky stretched out ribbons of orange hue, which streaked across the sky.

The glowing lights of Central Park slowly lit up, creating a few shadows in the scenic greenery. He walked over to his favorite spot in the room.

The window with the rust-covered fire escape.

He sat down at the window, with his back on the windowsill, to view Central Park for the last time, once again his feet hanging out of the fire escape. As he gazed out the window, his mind was on Connie.

The lingering memories of her. …working with her daily…the carriage ride…the storytelling…the dance…the kiss…

Then he lightly chuckled at the intriguing side of her…the baseball bat addiction…taking care of his 'injury'…her storytelling commentary…Scrabble…her bravery at the abduction…

She was an amazing woman.

He heard light footsteps. A smile appeared on his face. He did not need to turn around.

Connie stood in front of him, a vision of true beauty and intelligence.

"Mike," she said his name so gently, "is this a good time to do some more old- fashioned wooing? I've certainly missed it."

Mike did not need to respond. He sat up a little and held out his arm. She once again sat at the windowsill, snuggled in front of him. When he wrapped his arms around her, she felt pure contentment.

For a time they just watched the beautiful sunset sky.

"I'm almost sad to leave this hotel, and I'll actually miss this ugly, old fire escape most of all." Connie sighed, looking at the worn escape-way, "You know… sitting here in this unsightly fire escape reminds me of the movie _Breakfast at Tiffany's_."

"Why?" asked Mike, "did the main character have breakfast on the fire escape?"

"What?… _No_!" Connie said turning slightly around before settling down again on Mike's chest, "You mean you never saw that movie? It was a_ classic. _A romance, with Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard."

"You know me, " commented Mike, "if a movie doesn't have a court scene or a car explosion, I haven't seen it."

"Then, Mike, you've missed that wonderful scene on the fire escape."

"Tell me about it," he quietly encouraged.

"Hmmm…well, there's this one part in the movie," said Connie, looking dreamily off in the distance, "where Audrey Hepburn was sitting on the fire escape—which looked exactly like this one- of her apartment. She was casually dressed on the windowsill, her feet dangling off the fire escape. As she strummed a guitar, she sang the beautiful theme song _Moon River_. That's it. No dialogue. No background noises. No other distractions. Just her singing with the guitar. It was a very simple song with a strong emotional pull."

"'Moon River'? I'm sure I don't know that song," commented Mike.

"You don't know 'Moon River'? Who doesn't know 'Moon River'?"

Connie lifted one eyebrow, surprised. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the scene, tried to recall the song. Luckily the song's melodic tune was easy to sing.

** Moon River...**

_**Wider than a mile**_

_**I'm crossing you in style,**_

** some day…**

Unfortunately she didn't know the rest of the lyrics, so she continued humming, in case he recognized it.

"No, sorry… "Mike broke into her thoughts, "I don't recall that song."

"Really? Anyway, that scene was…so heartfelt."

She kept a smile on her face as she remembered the modest scene and how in the movie, George Peppard, from one floor up, had looked down lovingly from the fire escape, as Audrey Hepburn sang. There was a wistful sadness to the song.

Meanwhile Mike was thinking how Connie was much like Audrey Hepburn herself, for she also exuded style, grace and sophistication mixed with innocence and spunk.

As Connie indulged in her daydreams, leaning with her back to his chest, she felt Mike's chest move up and down as he continued the song in a gentle yet imperfect baritone voice:

**Oh dream maker…**

** You heart breaker,**

_**Wherever you're going**_

_**I'm going your way.**_

Connie sat up, surprised, and twisted her upper body to face him.

"You **do** know that song, _you little liar_!" she playfully accused him.

"It's like citing law cases," reasoned Mike with a grin, "_You never forget the great ones_."

Connie smiled back. Since she was no longer leaning on him, Mike started to get up from the fire escape window.

"Come and dance with me once again," he gently pleaded, as he held out his hand.

That brought memories of the first time they had danced. This time it would not be a traditional country waltz, but a simple slow dance. Connie grasped his warm hand as Mike helped her to her feet.

There was a cozy area between the window and bed. Connie readily circled her arms around the shoulders of Mike, while he placed his hands on her hips. There was little space separating them.

They slow danced to the accompaniment of Mike's modest singing:

_**Two drifters**_

_**off to see the world.**_

_**There's such a lot of world**_

_**to see…**_

They were also two drifters, off to experience the world with one another, as the air was filled with the haunting tune.

They swayed back and forth as Mike gently guided her. Connie placed her head on his shoulders.

_**We're after the same**_

_**Rainbow's end**_

_**Waiting round the bend-**_

At this part, Mike lifted his arm to twirl Connie under it. Connie rotated beneath Mike's arm, using their two joined hands. Then she effortlessly spun back into his waiting arms.

The charming movement made her sigh. He felt her pleasure with the moment, and when their bodies met up again, his fingers sensually trailed along her arms until it lightly grazed the inside of her wrists, before reaching for her hands. His touch sent a shiver throughout her body. Connie explored his fingers before she delicately placed her hands in his.

He had stopped singing. They had stopped slow dancing. She was unable to look away from him. The silence deepened, the only sound being the traffic from far below. They stood facing one another, holding hands.

"...I think... I-I've distracted you from finishing the song." Her throat felt dry at the nearness of him.

"I don't mind at all..." he responded, "as long as...you don't...let go of me."

His voice was low and a bit unsteady as he stated the double meaning. Connie was mesmerized by his seductive expression. She held on, encouraging him. His gaze drifted meaningfully over her exquisite face, making Connie's pulse race.

He leaned towards her and Connie met him halfway. His lips came down to caress her in a long, luxurious kiss. As her lips sensually molded to his, her hands indulgently wrapped around his neck.

He kissed her long and lingeringly, with compelling kisses that slowly turned into one fierce devouring kiss.

It was just as it had been before, sweet and alluring, yet sensual to her senses. The taste of him was so familiar. He felt the stimulating sensation of her body pressing against him. He kept his hands to her waist, gently pulling her closer to him, until they touched and became as one.

When the kiss ended, they stayed close, as his lips remained a teasing inch away from her, their panting breaths mingling in swirls of heat.

They reluctantly separated, never relinquishing their joined hands.

"I know you will never admit it," Connie softly spoke, "but Mike… you really are quite a romantic."

Mike smiled with his eyes.

"A romantic, you say? While I can not actually say whether or not I am a romantic," Mike stated, ending his sentence slowly to emphasis each word, "_that doesn't_ _mean I love you any less_."

A slight pause.

He watched as his words gently lingered in Connie's mind. He observed her lovely face, as her soft eyes suddenly opened wide when realization set in.

Perhaps she had heard wrong. She looked incredulously at him.

"What did you say?"

She held her breath.

"I love you." Mike simply professed.

He watched her as tears of happiness stung her eyes.

An adoring smile appeared on his face as he lovingly reached up and brushed a stray hair from her.

His declaration affected her in a way that made her heart burst with joy. Her expression changed to one of extraordinary tenderness.

"Mike, I love you, too," she confessed in the softest of voices.

_**We're after the same**_

_**Rainbow's end-**_

_**Waiting round the bend,**_

_**My huckleberry friend,**_

_**Moon River and me…**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_Thanks __**so**__ much for reading all the way through. I have given this story my all, and have been kindly rewarded by your reviews. _

_I hope my writings reflected the love and respect I feel for the Law and Order characters. And if I made you smile in the process, well…then all of this was well worth it!_

_I think "Moon River" is one of the most romantic movie songs ever. __If you have time, go to" You Tube" and type in __Breakfast at Tiffany's__. Watch the opening scene and also the scene with Audrey Hepburn singing 'Moon River'. Or, if you prefer, the Andy Williams classic. They will make your heart soar!_

_I will be posting my next story soon! This one will be with __**Jack McCoy**__ in the lead!_

_**Please review**__. Did you like the way I ended the story? Let me know what you've thought of this chapter and/or entire story by leaving a review. Tell me which parts you like best (Mystery? Action? Bantering? Romance? Thriller? etc.) so I will incorporate more of those elements in future stories. _

…**May you also find your rainbow's end…**


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